We are very fortunate. As my neighbor Claudia told me when I mentioned our budget dilemma, "These are first-world problems." Although some would say that's trivializing the situation, I say it's putting it in perspective. We currently have a fine, warm house (with heated toilet seats!), plenty of organic food, college funds and healthy, active kids. Life is good. The perfect house is just icing on the massive cake of life.
And life is even better now, since Bryan's dad is helping us out with just enough that we can build the house. Ho ho ho! His support is invaluable.
Which takes an enormous burden off of us. We will still be tight, and we still won't have fancy-pants fixtures, but that we can manage. At least we can build the house -- all of it. Including walk-in closets. After reading my last blog, Bryan said he hadn't considered walk-in closets in that light -- keeping the mess out of the bedroom and, more important for us, allowing one partner to sleep in peace while the other dresses. At that point, he became focused on adding walk-ins -- and we're pretty sure we can do it now. We penciled it into our plans, and I explained it to Architect Rick. These closets will make the house bigger, of course, which will add cost -- but also functionality. And we won't find ourselves saying, "I wish we had ... " about the closets, at least. The added size also means a few extra feet of excavation, though, and whatever additional cost that incurs.
We also decided to sacrifice square footage in the office to accommodate a walk-in pantry -- a small walk-in pantry, but a walk-in pantry nonetheless. (The office and the pantry are back-to-back, comprising one unit of square footage that we can divvy up at will between them.) So the sacrifice changes from no walk-in pantry to a very small office. As in only big enough for my (very large teak) desk and my file cabinet, hopefully with shelves lining the walls, though since they won't be built-ins (can't afford them), they'll take up valuable square footage. This is not at all what I'd envisioned for my office, but the beauty of this scheme is that if I really hate it, we can move an interior wall and steal space back from the pantry. However, I currently have a very small work space as my desk (that dreaded desk niche in the kitchen, aaugh), so anything with actual space will be better. And a door. A real door that closes so that I can lock out the kids while I finish just one (please! only one!) measly task.
So things are definitely looking up. I am less stressed, though certainly still anxious. I woke up the other night (before Nelson's gift was official) at about 2 a.m., and my arm and head positioning were just right so that I could clearly hear my own heartbeat -- and it was racing faster than a putt-putt engine at full acceleration; almost as if someone with a way better Spanish accent than me was rolling their Rs in my chest. It occurred to me that this is a hell of a lot of anxiety and I might not survive building this house, much less the night. But then it also occurred to me that I am healthy, strong and youngish, and I tend to be resilient. Millions of other people in worse shape than me have built houses and survived, so I'm sure I'll make it through as well. It reminded me, too, of the warning that people offer when a couple builds a house: Make sure you have a strong marriage, because building causes divorce. Thankfully, that is one source of stress that I'm not very concerned about: Bryan and I get along well, resolve issues well (usually) and tend to have the same taste. That last item alone might just save us! Communication is definitely the key, as always -- and although we've had a couple small communication gaps so far, Bryan is a good communicator and is almost equally good at bringing out the reluctant communicator in me. I just have to follow his lead and remain calm. Ommmmmm.
So in theory we'll meet with the team next week and get on with the next steps: blueprints and engineering, and testing the well for flow and potability. Progress!
