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For a bit of history and the story behind the blog, keep reading:
On January 23, 2020, I sent my mother a text:
“I found my house. Two bedroom, corner lot, 800-ish square feet, bay window, good kitchen layout. Well-within my price range. So today I want to do something impulsive and buy a house.”
What started as a joke rapidly turned into something more serious. While I had done some casual house shopping before (including briefly falling in love with a little brick house with built-ins), it had never gone anywhere. Now I found myself in a new position: employed and able to support myself, with a number of houses in my price range currently on the market. All I had to do was jump.
By January 29th, I’d connected with a realtor and picked out half a dozen homes I wanted to see.
On January 30th, I shared a few home decor Pinterest boards with my mother and sent her a screenshot of a Zillow listing, underscored with exclamation points. A week later, before even seeing the little white house in person (though my father drove by), I was texting my mother telling her I was leaning toward it as my favorite. (Despite the fact that the washer and dryer were in the…carpeted…kitchen.) Ironically, it didn’t have most of the things on my list of dream house “must haves”: a separate dining room and/or separate laundry; sitting on a corner lot; wood or at least laminate flooring; or a fenced-in back yard. But it had charm, it was in the right location, and it was within my price range.
On February 8th, after a long day of house viewings, the house in that screenshot was the one I knew I wanted. The realtor and my parents even knew it. We were all in love.
Between then and mid-March, I:
- started an Amazon wish-list with household items
- started snatching up used dishes and other things from church friends, work friends, and strangers
- bought a used couch from Salvation Army
- argued with mortgage people about money transferred from my savings account to my checking (it was a whole thing)
- prayed, like, a lot
- possibly panicked a few times (home appraisers are meeeaaannn)
- purchased homeowner’s insurance for a house I didn’t own
- and packed up my life for the 20-minute drive to a new home
And two days before my 26th birthday, I signed the paperwork that made me a homeowner.
Which brings us to here: my own little hobbit house near the Saginaw Bay in Michigan; and to me: a 20-something single woman learning to navigate life, home-ownership, a full-time job, and her latest hobby. And here, in this lovely, messy little corner of the internet, I chronicle my adventures. Grab a cup of your preferred hot beverage, pull up a comfy seat, and let’s go!