I just signed a lease on a house. It’s small, smaller than what I’d have bought if I’d bought a house this year. I looked at it to buy, and loved it, but I knew in two years, when my boys’ feet were bigger and they were taller the house would be too small for them, so I passed it by, even though I loved the backyard and the attached garage.
When the dust settled on my failed house purchase, I was looking for a rental, and put it out to the universe on Facebook that I wished the right rental for us would drop into my lap. And my mom’s best friend from when I was a baby and they were La Leche League leaders together, with whom I’m friends on Facebook, private messaged me to introduce me to her friend’s daughter, who then introduced me to her friend, who knew someone who was going to rent their house. And it was this one, the house I’d liked but not wanted to buy because it would be too small in two years.
The world is very small. And you often get what you ask for. (So be careful what you ask for.)
The best thing about the house, aside from the warm feeling and gorgeous backyard and nice neighbors, is that it’s a 90-second walk from the boys’ new school. Last year we had a 45-minute subway commute. This year we all get 90 minutes back in our day because we’re so close to school.
My work travel season starts tonight, so I’m about to get into my car (I bought a car!) and drive to the airport. When I get back, I’ll work a full day, then start moving all our stuff into our new little house. We’ll have a couple of days to get settled, and then I’ll walk the kids to school for their first day. My life is starting to feel like a life again, instead of like white-knuckling it and hoping to avoid a fungal infection from someone else’s sweat dripping on me on the subway every day.
In all fairness, I do miss my work neighborhood in Queens a little. But I’m so glad to be here, I can’t even express it.