House fears…

I am still in the blissful phase of the new homeowner relationship.  Every day when I pull into the driveway I pause just for a few seconds to look at the house and say, “Seriously?  Mine?  Wow.”  I still walk around from room to room, taking it all in and wondering if this dream will ever end.  It’s all just so romantic.

 And then I started reading blogs of people who also own their own homes…  And now I listen to every creak and eek, convinced that it is the sound of the roof leaking, termites chewing, the heater dying, the water heater exploding, the washer conking out, the dryer blowing cold air, the fridge condenser stopping or pipes bursting.  I am living in a ticking time bomb.  I thought it was my dream house, but no…  It is a money pit waiting until the moment I least expect it and can least afford it to crumble to the ground. 

When I was little, I used to read my grandmother’s copies of Reader’s Digest and in each issue there would be a medical mystery, miracle or sob story and no matter what disease it was, I convinced myself that I had it.  I became a child hypochondriac.  Thankfully, I had the good sense (after a couple of years) to stop reading the damn magazines.  Hopefully homeowner blogs have not turned me into a house hypochondriac.  I don’t think I could stop reading them now if I tried.

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