House Sweet House

It has been said, “Home is where the heart is.” That may be true but your heart can’t shield you from the elements, gang members, wild dogs, ninjas, midgets, and sharks. So even though a “home” is an abstract idea beyond physical components you still need a house (or a place of shelter) in order to live. I wish this were not the case because houses are expensive (especially in Southern California, you know, the place I am living in).

After meticulously saving like crazy and my mother leaving me a small portion of her estate, the wife and I recently purchased a house (in Southern California, no less). It was exciting when we initially started looking for a house. Over time, it became less and less exciting. Actually, it became so frustrating for me that I was ready to build my own house. But if you want a house you need to go through the process. There’s no way around it. Unless you’re rich and price is a non-issue, it’s going to be a difficult process trying to find a place both you and your spouse like and find a place within the price range you’re comfortable with. I’ll give you a wild guess on who was on the lower end of the price range.

The Kitchen:

The wife wanted a kitchen with lots of counter and cupboard space. What do I care about the kitchen? I only go in there to get something to drink or rummage through the cupboard looking for a snack and frustratingly failing in that attempt. The wife told me that she cooks all the dinners, which I happily eat, in the kitchen. So if I want to continue eating those dinners I better get a house with a nice kitchen. Fair enough.

The Yard:

The wife also wanted a yard because of the dogs (that’s right, dogssssssssssss). I can’t believe that we are shopping for a house and keeping the dogs in mind. Dogs? Dogs! Dogs. Not in a hundred years I would’ve thought this. Samson (Boxer) keeps digging up the backyard. I tell him that there's nothing back there but apparently he doesn't believe me.

The Man Cave:

The only thing that was important to me, regarding the house, was that I would have a Man Cave. You know, a place where I could put my Kobe autographed shoes. The MC would be a place of studying God’s word, prayer, mediation, and the watching of Laker games.

The Old Neighborhood:

Now I’m extremely thankful for the father-in-law (aka The Racquetball Brawler) for renting out his old house to us. However, the neighborhood where we lived was awful. First, the street was as thin as Nicole Richie. I think it was built in 1809. You’d be lucky if two Priuses could drive by each other on that street. Secondly, the city of Whittier does not allow dogs in their parks. Really?! I don’t like cities that hate on dogs. It’s okay if I do but an entire city? Also, there are so many trees that are destroying the foundation of streets and homes that it’s down right hazardous to simply walk down the street. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for aesthetics but not at the expense of safety and functionality.

Finally, our next-door neighbor was a drugged-out-pot-smoking-inconsiderate-inheritance-blowing-burn-out who did strange things. For example, he would leave his diesel truck idling for 20 minutes in the driveway. It would drive the dog and me nuts. He would mow the lawn at 2am, listen to rock music from his truck at full-blast at 11pm, and refused to trim his trees even though they were destroying the foundation of The Racquetball Brawler’s driveway. Yes, he’s a real winner. Interestingly, the drugged-out-pot-smoking-inconsiderate-inheritance-blowing-burn-out who did strange things got evicted right when we were moving. Great timing.

Furthermore, the apartments down the street had “shady” written all over them. There were cops parked on the street just observing the place because they knew something was going on (e.g., drug activity, gangs, etc.). Every now and then, the apartments (aka Shady A-part) would blast ganger-rap, which dropped F-bombs left and right. I don’t want my dogs picking up that kind of language. I think you get the point. We’re happy to be moving.

The New Neighborhood:

It’s only been a few weeks but the new neighborhood seems really nice. The wife likes it and that’s always a plus. Every house on the block is well kept and the people seem nice. No ganger-rap at full-blast dropping F-bombs, yet. Also, every house seems to have dogs. So I’m guessing the neighbor, in general, likes dogs. The other day I was walking the dogs and I heard a gentlemen yelling at his dogs because they were being disobedient. It looks like I’ll be getting along with the people around here since we seem to have the same bitter/sweet relationship with our dogs.

Upgrades:

I take that back, The Man Cave is not the ONLY thing important to me. I wanted a house that was already fully upgraded (e.g., new kitchen, new bathroom, new man cave, etc.). This was important for no other reason than that I didn’t want to put in the work to upgrade that stuff myself. The good news with this house is that both the wife and I liked the upgrades. Sweet! I’m always excited about less work. The father-in-law is completely different. He would rather buy a fixer-upper and upgrade everything himself. I don’t even like painting. Hey, speaking of painting . . .

After we bought the house the wife immediately wanted to paint. I thought the house was fine the way it was (because I don’t like to work or paint). Interestingly, all the women I told said, “Of course you have to paint.” And all the dudes said “Sorry man, painting sucks.” Yes it does.

Unless the color is bright pink or vomit green, I really don’t care what color it is. But the reason why women need to paint is because you buy them a house but they need to make it a home. Actually, I’m convinced that even if a woman likes the original colors of a house she would buy the same colors and paint over it anyway just to say that she was the one that picked out the colors.

On a more serious note, I see this house as a huge blessing from the Lord. It’s a life stage that felt so far away for me and now it’s here. I recently attended a Men’s Breakfast at my church and sat at table where we talked about mortgage rates. Mortgage rates?! Baffling. I turned to my buddy Chris Hunt and said, “When we were going through grad school did you ever think we would be talking about mortgage rates?” He simply replied, “No.”

It all feels like growing up. Although you don’t need a house for maturation, it’s still a surreal feeling because I realize how much of an idiot I am. Here’s a story to illustrate my point: My mom had some exotic birds as pets when I was in high school. She had to leave for about a month on a business trip in Thailand and left me responsible or feeding the birds. You know where this is going. Simply put, the birds didn’t make it by the time my mom got back from her trip.

Despite all that, the Lord has entrusted me with a beautiful wife and now a lovely home (I’m not counting the dogs). I’m not sure why He would bless me in such a generous fashion. If He’s anything like me, it’s probably because He thinks it would be funny. Outside of that, there are only two reasons I could think of. First, God is good. It’s that simple. Second, with these wonderful blessings in my life, there is a sense of responsibility to be a good husband and a responsible homeowner to His glory.

We hope to use the house to bless others and glorify God in the process, starting with get-togethers for Laker games. After that I’m all out of ideas but I’m sure the wife will think of some good things.