The (not so) Remorseful Buyer

I’ll bet you thought I might do a political post.

Guess again.

Don’t get me wrong.  I have strong opinions about very important issues, but I’m not blogging about them.  I’m tired of the bullshit drama and sniping back and forth about stuff that none of us can change.  Furthermore, I don’t trust any politician, and I’m sure their primary goal is to get votes.  I don’t think the answer lies within the government, but within us.  I vote my conscience, and my faith, and that’s that.  I like to make people think, but mostly I like to make people laugh, and the state of our nation is no laughing matter. That is all.

Anyway, my life has taken a drastic turn lately, as many of you already know, since we have purchased a home and moved (mostly), and I’ve had many occasions to think about buyers remorse.  I am a great believer in buyers remorse.  Hell, I own a boat, for crying out loud, and nothing triggers buyers remorse like a boat.

For those of you who maybe haven’t experienced the agony of buyer’s remorse, allow me to explain.  Buyer’s remorse is that feeling you get when you realize that you have recently spent a LOT of money on something that maybe (probably) you didn’t need.  The buying buzz wears off, and reality kicks in.  A lot of people get this from home buying, and I was afraid I might.

You see, reality has certainly set in.  Lots of the “charming” things (and trust me, those are great, BIG sarcastic air quotes) that we liked when we bought the house have lost their charm.  Those original windows that seemed so cool are huge energy suckers.  The kitchen is pretty much blah, there is a shocking lack of closets, some of the floors are slanted, and my daughter’s room is approximately the size of a large shoe box.  The ceiling leaked a little when we had all the snow last week. My washing machine tears my clothes, so I have to wash them in mesh bags, and I still don’t have a functioning shower for Mindy.  The yard is an overgrown nightmare–I’m pretty sure there are lions and baboons living out there.  One part of it is a rock bar, the other is swampy and soft.  The driveway needs lots of work, as does the sidewalk.

But I love it.

You have no idea the joy I have when I wake up in the morning and know that I am home–really, truly, home.  My home.  If I want to hop out of bed and parade to the bathroom in my skivvies, I can.  (I don’t, incidentally, and I apologize for the image.) I can turn up the television too loud or listen to obnoxious music.  I can make a huge mess in the kitchen and then not clean it up for a couple of hours.  I can decorate my own house with my own things, hang my own pictures and paint the walls any color I want.  If I want to go squat in the yard and…….okay, okay, sorry.  I was getting a little carried away there.

Now, before someone says, “Wow, The Grandparents must be really awful!” let me assure you, I could have done all of those things at their house, too.  But you have to understand–I never would have, because it wasn’t my house. Nobody ever made me feel that way but me.  If The Grandparents were to move to Florida tomorrow and give me that house, I still could not just walk in there and take it over.  It isn’t my house. 

Can you understand?

So anyway, the stress of home ownership is certainly, well, stressful (sorry, I couldn’t come up with a better adjective) but it can never detract from my happiness.  That leaky ceiling is my leaky ceiling.  Those lions and baboons are my lions and baboons.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my coffee is kicking in.  I need to visit the yard.


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4 Comments on "The (not so) Remorseful Buyer"

  1. Rachel
    10/11/2012 at 12:56 pm Permalink

    How great for you! You have made me look at my own home in a new, refreshing light. I always think about how exciting something is when you first acquire it, see it or experience it, but then after some time passes and you become habituated to thing you lose that initial enthusiasm and start to dwell on the flaws, which inevitably there are. I guess I should not say “you” and just say “me” because I’m not sure EVERYONE feels this way, but I suspect it is one of those “human nature” traits.

    I once read an article about happiness where it was explained that we have this baseline propensity for happiness, unhappiness or something in between, which we will eventually reset to, no matter what happens to us, whether bad or good. This further explained how someone who has won the lottery can still be a generally unhappy person (the whole “money can’t buy happiness” thing), while someone who has had some horrible accident and is terribly disfigured or handicapped as a result, with no money to boot, adapts to his or her situation and their basic happy level of functioning is maintained.

    I don’t think I personally have that “happy gene” and I’m very unhappy about it.

    Anyway, always good to read what you write!

    Rachel 🙂

  2. Janice
    10/11/2012 at 3:13 pm Permalink

    You always make me smile.

    I’ll bet you have the happy gene. We all do. Maybe some of us just have to dig a little deeper to unearth it.

  3. Yocheved
    11/11/2012 at 10:06 pm Permalink

    YES! I totally understand! I am a big time “nester”, and home is very important for me. I absolutely loved owning a home. When I got foreclosed on I nearly had a nervous breakdown, but I had to learn to love living in a studio apartment for a while. Now I’m renting a nice little house, and I often say that “the only thing wrong with this house is that I don’t own it.”

    Still, I thank G-d every day that I have heat, electricity, running water, a roof over my head, and food in the pantry. That’s more than 80% of the rest of the world can say, so I consider myself rich. 🙂

    Who cares if my credit stinks now? Credit is a major scam, anyway. It’s designed to make you unhappy with what you have now, and encourages you to gamble on your future. The best way to ensure happiness, is to be grateful for what you have NOW.

  4. Rachel
    12/11/2012 at 2:03 am Permalink

    True – my happy gene pops up every once in a while to gasp for air; try as I might I just can’t seem to drown the little sucker 😉

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