One year ago today, I arrived at our new house in Pittsburgh, to spend the night for the first time.
We had completed a nasty three-day stretch where we moved pretty much everything from our apartment in Butler to the new place, making the drive on Route 68 to I-79 to the Parkway North more times than we could count.
We weren’t quite done, and Mrs. Crappy volunteered to spend one more night in the apartment, rounding up the last of the stuff — pretty much piles of magazines, papers, loose clothing and stray books — and tossing them in the last few boxes we had. While she did that, Miles and I were to spend the night in the new place for the first time.
I arrived to find a bottle of wine from an across-the-street neighbor. I also found open wi-fi from another, unknown neighbor, which I used to post something about our first night there.
It was odd. It was a little disconcerting, for me and for Miles. But while I caught up on Twitter in an Ikea easy chair, he spent the first hour or so huddled in a corner behind me. It took him a little while, but with me as a willing escort, we were able to check out much of the house for the first time. Our ears perked at each creak we hadn’t heard before. When it finally kicked on, the furnace made some noises I hadn’t noticed; Miles was even more spooked than I was.
The next morning, I drove up to Butler to pick up Mrs. Crappy. We loaded up our cars for the last trip and left Butler for good. We’ve spent a ton of time and sweat making our house look and feel the way we want it to. There’s tons more work to do; in fact, I’m beginning to understand my friends who just laugh when I ask if they’re done working on their houses.
But that’s OK. One year later, I still think this is the best thing we’ve ever done. And it’s fine with me if the house is never quite finished — we plan on being her for a while.
It took Miles a few days, but he eventually relaxed. To him, the house feels like home.
And that’s how it feels to us as well.