oh house.

Do you remember that post about being content?
And her sweet comment about being patient and waiting?
And me knowing that we are supposed to be waiting on the right timing to buy a house?

Then why, oh why, is it so darn frustrating?
I thought I had made peace with it, learning how to be content in it.
I thought I could last as long as it takes.
I thought I was OK with waiting, being content, taking our time...
But I am losing my mind.

I have a pile of art - cool, fun, local, sentimental art - that is waiting to be hung.
And I can't hang it.
We have no available walls.
I yearn for empty walls.

I have furniture at my parent's house that I long to have in my house - an old desk that was my great uncle's, cabinets that are empty - waiting to be filled with my beautiful glass vases and trinkets from our lives.
We have no available space for our things.
I yearn for a little empty space.

I know, as soon as we buy a house it will consume me.
Consume all our available money, time, heart, and energy.
It is expensive and scary - being an adult.
I know that it will be so empty that it will feel like a tomb - we have so little furniture that is our own.
I know that it will be exhausting fixing it like we want it, making it our own.
But - it will be our own.
Ours. Full of our things.
I yearn for a house simply full (or empty!) of our things - it will be like being newly married again, combining our lives into one.
Just the two of us, living in a house that is our own.