Real Estate Reality

I want to buy a house. And what started as a "maybe, who knows, could be" thought has grown into something louder, a "must, need, soon" sort of noise. It would be fair to say that my house-ological clock is ticking. I write this sitting in our (perfectly nice) loft apartment in Durham where we have lived for six months since moving here from Charlotte. This is our fourth move in 5 years, and while I am used to finding new space for our things, scouting neighborhoods and dog-walking routes, and making home out of house, this move is under my skin in a whole new way. I want, very much, to put down roots by way of a SOLD sign driven into the southern soil.

I'll admit that this longing is sort of freaking me out, not to mention fueling more than a few heated discussions between me and my husband. But when I think about it, I know exactly where my nesting-lust comes from. The short and dirty version: while I appreciate what we get to do and see as we move around, I don't want to feel so temporary and transient. Even if we only live in a place for a limited time, I never want to look back at this time in our lives and think we didn't belong there. And somehow, sitting in my (again, perfectly nice) loft apartment with white walls and our artwork simply leaning against said walls, painting a wall, hanging a picture and maybe tiling a backsplash feels like staking some claim to this city. I want to garden, paint, build, tear down, decorate, landscape, try to fix the toilet myself and then inevitably call the plumber, all of it. I also want to meet my neighbors. I grew up in a neighborhood where all the kids on the block played together, we grilled with our neighbors, my Mom did book club with the women on the block and if I was locked out, there were seven friendly doors to knock on. More than buying a house, maybe I want to buy neighbors? So maybe I want to paint my walls and then ask my neighbor what she thinks when she's over for coffee.

My reasons for wanting a house are admittedly rooted in roots. But there is something else, something that eats at me in a different way. I also don't want to look back at these years in our lives as years where we did what we did for my husband. We have moved for his job. I signed up and knew full well that this was the plan, he made way (way way) more money than I did and he loves to do one thing and one thing only. I thought, and still think, that I'm a bit looser, more flexible in my career ambitions, I can do lots of things in lots of places. Those arguments with my husband aren't just about paint, gardens and mortages. He agrees that we should move into a house, with a yard and neighbors, but he'd rather rent that house. I think that after 5 years, I want to make a big decision for us, to stake claim on our story, not just our city. I am stuck on buying a house because while where we live the product of my husband's choices, how we live can be a product of mine. Rent, own - the financials and investment potential are debatable and debate we do. But the arguments are clouded because I can't always pinpoint my motivation. Am I really in tune with the Durham real estate market or am I just trying to pee on something to make it mine?

There isn't an answer (which bothers me to no end) because it's all of thee above. I love my husband and he is never insensitive to how I feel. If I were to say "no", or "enough" to any of the moves, I have no doubt that he would hear me. But there is no way that he knows exactly how I feel. Because I don't even know exactly how I feel. And I certainly don't know that a house, neighborhood and garden will quell imbalances that are simply a reality of the life we have chosen right now. Whatever the reason, or more precisely whatever the portion of reasons - the ticking? Buy me. Buy now. Buy me. Buy now. It's very loud.