My imagination is spiraling out of control, here.

I have dreams of having a farm in the city. Not a farm the way America looks at farms now. No, just enough to feed my family. Live chickens clucking around the backyard making fresh eggs for my omelette. A goat to milk. Goat's milk cheese made in my very own kitchen. 

I imagine myself in a tank top and shorts, dirty knees and a sweaty face, pulling weeds with a grin from ear to ear.

I walk out to the garden in the middle of cooking dinner for friends to snip some thyme or rosemary. 

I pick strawberries in the morning to put on my cereal.

I see rows and rows of canned goods in the basement as the leaves start to change outside. Homemade salsa, tomatoes, carrots, peas, and beans. 

I see myself sipping iced tea on the porch after a long day toiling in the garden. The short dog lounging at my feet.

I never make omelettes and chickens are expensive. 

I don't particularly like gardening, but do like the spoils that come from it. It is more likely that the situation will turn into "I weeded the garden last time. It's your turn."

I don't eat cereal. I hate peas. And I would much rather sip a beer than iced tea.

I have to rein myself in and not take on more than I am willing to do. Is walking a mile to and from work unreasonable? No. Not at all. 

Is it unreasonable to gather the boy every Sunday and walk to the grocery store? I don't think so.

Is it unreasonable to think that in one week I can paint a whole house, unpack all the boxes, walk to and from work, walk to the grocery store, plant a garden, and shoot rainbows out of my ass? Why, yes. Yes it is. 

Moderation, Erratic. The garden can wait until next year. I am going to need someone to text this to me daily.

Another boring 10 things...Ugh. I am boring.

1. I have never had an actual anxiety attack. I think I have come close...heart racing, uncontrollable fear, palms sweating. When I get really anxious, I lose the ability to move my hands. I don't know how to explain it, it's like they form a claw and I can't un-claw them. Not a fist. A claw. My heart starts racing every single time I see that camera angle at the top of a roller coaster. When faced with the actual thing, I get the claw. Just thinking about it is making my palms sweat.
2. I am doing a mead dinner next month at work. I am really excited, but also terrified. People are going to pay good money for this dinner and pairing is not my strong suit. But, in an effort to be more of a bad ass and hence more confident, I am going to kill it. KILL IT.
3. I found a sweatshirt that I thought I lost and it was the best thing that has ever happened ever. It has a strange story...when my ex and I started dating, I went to Seattle for a week and bought him a sweatshirt. I gave it to him and he wore it once, then I stole it back because it was so incredibly comfy and amazing. It is huge on me and I just don't care. That isn't really that strange. Or really a story. This entire bullet point should just not be a thing.
4. The new guy at work hasn't figured me out yet. I said the phrase "Start at the back" and he said "I always start at the back" and then apologized for making me uncomfortable. I almost laughed in his face. Instead, I just walked away. My safe word is gang rape...dude, my grandmother wouldn't have been offended by that lame ass joke. Speaking of my grandmother...
5. My grandmother turns 80 in May. Today she told me that she hung an entire art show by herself. Now, let me tell you, I have hung art shows with her. And I left sore, sweaty, and exhausted. Art work is HEAVY. And the gallery never ever likes the first place you put anything. I am so proud to be her granddaughter. She is a tough old broad and I can only hope to be as strong, independent, and intelligent as she is. And, let's be honest, I've already got the crazy part down.
6. If you are not playing Draw Something with me already, mother fucker, not cool. I am addicted. DO IT. DO IT NOW. My username is SwithanH. I am terrible. You have been warned.
7. I can't decide if I love or hate Zoey Deschanel. It kind of plagues me. Reason number 742 I need therapy. 
8. My dad went to StL for the weekend to see my sister and brought me back cupcakes from some bakery that won cupcake wars on Food Network. He stopped into work today to give them to me and holy fucking balls, they were delicious. I shared, of course, so they were gone in about 3 seconds.
9. We have been cleaning out shit because the new house has no storage. I came across a notebook of poetry I wrote. Maybe I will publish some here...but it brings up the question...do you have notebooks? I have so many I can't even count. Notebooks for food, for writing, for poetry...is this weird? 
10. I am ridiculously happy. Not just the house shit, just everything. Perfect job, perfect boy, soon to be perfect house...shit is just awesome right now. I am much funnier when everything sucks, I realize this. Sorry about the cheese...

Guess What...

Pending an inspection, we got the house. At a price we are mostly comfortable with. 

Now to deal with all of the bullshit that comes with not having Realtor's involved. Mostly, just me googling a million things and the boy trying to crack protected PDF files so that we don't have to pay for the contracts. 

Holy shit, you guys. Holy shit.

Just this moment.

We put in a "final" offer. This is the most we can afford, the most. This is the last offer we will make. I am equal parts ecstatic and having an anxiety attack. Josey brought up a point that we don't want to be house poor and I feel the need to clarify.

This will not clean out our savings, nor will it put us in a situation where we can't pay our bills. We are going to look at things like our $760 a month food budget. WHAT? This is what happens when you live with/ are a chef. You spend ridiculous amounts of money on food. When you could easily just not. And still be happy.  Can I tell you what I can do with a $1 bag of rice, a $1 bag of dried beans and some spices? Because it is amazing and can make 6 meals. I just prefer extravagance. So, the food budget will be re-evaluated. We are also selling my car because I will now walk to work. So will the boy. So, we will have a car sitting out front for when we need to leave the city. Which, hopefully, is rare. 

I am saying that we will be house poor because we will no longer be able to spend whatever we want on whatever we want. We will have to be frugal. I want you guys to be excited, not worried. That is why I am clarifying. Also...can somebody please hold an intervention on our food budget? THERE ARE ONLY TWO OF US. Putting that on paper hurt a little.

On another note, the boy and I sat down at dinner and talked about other options. Options that included renting for a year in a one bedroom apartment (!!!) to save money so we have a larger down payment and thus can afford a slightly more expensive house. He mentioned moving in with my dad and I almost murdered him with a butter knife and a spoon. But, I agreed to consider it. 

Unfortunately where we are now is no longer a healthy situation (the basement leak they won't fix is going to end in mold) nor is it a financially beneficial situation. So, moving on is definitely in the cards. And hopefully this house is how we do that. 

In my head, we have already moved in. I have decorated the house and planned the garden in the back yard. I have planned many food adventures in the cellar. I have already hung art on the walls. I even know where NCH's cat box will be and where the toothbrush will sit on the bathroom sink. (We have one electric toothbrush with two different heads. Is this weird? As I read that previous sentence, it made me think this was weird.)

It will hurt to let this house go, but more than likely, we will. And I am prepared for that too. But, for a moment, just a moment, I am going to sit right here and pretend like this house is ours. 

To buy or not to buy, that is the question.

You know what is really frustrating? Making an offer on a house. You know what is even more frustrating? Falling in love with a house and watching yourself pay more money than you wanted to. You know what is even more frustrating than that? Wanting the house so bad you don't care, even thought that is the exact opposite of what you should do.

I am not built for this. I caught myself thinking, well, if we can't get him to come down further, I'll just get another job. Or we'll eat Ramen noodles. Or whatever. We can afford it. But, we are going to be house poor. Something we both didn't want to do.

Is it worth it for the house in the neighborhood you never thought you could afford? Oh, wait. That you definitely could never afford. A house that you both really, really like. A house that has exposed brick in the bedroom and a backyard screaming for a vegetable garden? Is it worth the cobblestone street you will live on? And the walking distance to work and the grocery store and restaurants and C's house?

I am impulsive where the boy is cautious. Everything about me screams, yes. BUY THIS HOUSE.

We love this house.

There are other houses. Houses for $30K less in a less desirable neighborhood. With no cobblestone streets, no exposed brick, a less than perfect back yard. Houses that would require a lot of work to fix up. Other houses.

Sigh. Next time we move, I am just going to let the boy find and negotiate the house and just find out when we move. I am far too insane for this process.

UPDATE: I can't resist. I just can't.

Today is better.

I am better today. So much better. After, clearly, flying off the handle, I calmly sat down with the owner for an hour today and aired all my grievances. I feel better? I don't know if better is the word. I hate promises. I prefer actions and I got a lot of promises. But...I was told my hours on the line will be cut, but he wants me to do more of the catering and special events. I will be doing a wine/beer/liquor/mead dinner once a month. On top of spear heading most of the catering. I was once again promised the next sous chef position that became available. I was told up and down how good my food is and what a great contribution I am. 

I still feel a little cheated. I still don't understand why myself and one other person need FOUR supervisors. 

But, the guy I hate got fired today. And as long as I keep pushing, I will keep being allowed to create food and have unlimited creativity. 

Yesterday was a really bad day.

Today was so much better.

Thanks for the kind words.

Beware: Anger. But, surprisingly few capital letters.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.