After Dark

mood: dragging | drinking: plain old water

afterdark

Daylight Savings Time can kiss my ass.

I don’t like it. I’m not a fan of it. I really would rather not.

Already I feel that time moves too quickly, whooshing by me like a soft-footed thief. When the workday ends, there is barely enough dusk lighting the parking lot for me to make out the color of my car.

By the time I’ve joined the queue of halogens buzzing down the pavement, all vestiges of daylight have disappeared.

Getting home after dark is demoralizing. It underscores just how little you have left of your day after selling your best hours to the man for just enough digits to put a roof over your head and food in your belly (and your dog’s) and gas in your tank. (And, yes, pretty shoes on your feet and fascinating books on your shelves.)

I’ve begun to feel old, in the last couple of years. And I’m sure that sentence has my elders laughing and laughing. But really, this is the oldest I’ve ever been, and the numbers are really beginning to show signs of wear.

So I wish it would all just slow down, slow waaaaaaaaaaay down.
I want to hover here in the moment before it becomes a memory.
I want to savor the feelings while they’re still warm.
I want to bask in the colors while they remain vibrant.
I want to stay a bit longer in the light.

-Lo, who thinks it’s quite possible that creaky begets cranky.

In Escrow

mood: overjoyed | drinking: raspberry tea
housefront1

There’s a funny thing about tunnels and the lights that sometimes appear at the end of them…

When there is no end in sight, you feel as if the state of limbo, of darkness, of uncertainty will stretch on and on and on into infinity. You begin to feel like you’ve been there for so long, you can’t remember what it is to live any other way.

And then, suddenly, light! And though you’re still within the tunnel, though you still haven’t reached the end, everything has miraculously changed. Suddenly you are certain that the end is, blessedly, near. And somehow you find yourself laughing at things (*cough* drunk frat boys outside my window at 3 a.m. *cough*) that, a week ago, made you feel like turning into a cutter.

All of that to say this: After 4 months, 134 houses, and 15 offers, the search is over. We’ve got a house.

Or, more accurately, we are in escrow. Apartment living shall continue for the near future. Keys to our adorable new house are not yet in hand. But there is suddenly an expiration date on Limboland, and that changes absolutely everything.

There were 7 other offers on this house, as is common in San Francisco surreal estate. But this time, finally, we were the ones who came out on top, thanks in no small part to the efforts of our most fabulous realtor, Jennifer Rosdail. And also to a letter I wrote to tell the sellers why Boy and I would make such wonderful buyers.

Turns out that sometimes people really do care about who buys their house, not just who has the most cash.

Our new home will be just a couple of blocks from the beach–you can hear the thunder of the Pacific Ocean when the windows are open. We’re also pretty close to Golden Gate Park, one of my most favorite places ever. So we’re pretty pleased about that.

The house isn’t huge, but it does have an extra bedroom, a nice garage for Boy and a big huge backyard for LeeLoo. It was built in 1939 and the previous owner bought it brand new. She took very good care of it, leaving the original details intact, so it’s a very charming little place with hardwood floors and sweet little alcoves.

We’re pretty much in love. (And one of us may have been overtaken by the repeated and spontaneous desire to do some booty-shaking in celebration, much to LeeLoo’s confusion.)

One of the things Boy and I kept telling each other throughout the last few months was that we couldn’t settle. We couldn’t just pick a house to have a house and be done with it. We had to end up with a house that made the whole ordeal worthwhile. We had to choose a house that we loved, that could become a home. A place that we could see ourselves in for years to come.

We feel like we’ve found it. And in about 30-ish days, it will truly be ours.

So here’s to lights and ends and certainty. A new adventure begins…

-Lo, in escrow.