Moving to the country...

So I guess I'm going to be selling a house that I thought was going to be It, the place I was going to Be Forever. It isn't a nice house, really, and it isn't big, but it has built-in bookshelves and a funny-shaped living room and it's old and laid out funny and full of personality and life. It has me all over it. If I was a house, I'd be this house. But I'm going to sell it. I'm buying some land from my parents and putting a house up there.

Does anyone else appreciate the irony here? That when my only two options appeared to be the boy, or the parents, I picked the boy (well, not really picked, just landed, I guess) and now I'm going back to the parents, with the boy? And I don't mind going back, I want to live more out in the country, and I get along with my parents really well now and I think it will be great for the kids to grow up there. But still...

So I'm thinking we'll get the land and build a house, right? And I'm thinking it will take years, we'll stay here and build our new house a little bit at a time, as we get the money to do each part, and then we'll move in and live in it while we finish the inside and then sell this one. I'm thinking all of us working together and if I get old I can look back and say look, this is the board that Dylan cut crooked or whatever. It would take a long time but it would be ours, a house for us.

So Jackey gets me all into this idea, I drag my lazy butt up the mountain to look at the spot Dad wants to sell, start to think, OK, this could work, and even find a plan for a cute little house with a front porch that I think would work. And then I get shot down again. It's too big, too expensive to build.

So here's what's going to happen. We'll buy the land. We'll get a great little prefab fucking modular with no more room than we have now and I'll spend the rest of my life in somebody else's house listening to everyone complain about how it isn't big enough for all the junk we have. And if I'm ever someplace else and get homesick I can just find a middle-class neighborhood and see a house just like mine -ooo, but with green shutters, nice!-and feel right at home again.

I can't wait. Nice pristine white sheetrock walls for me to clean each and every day so I never get bored...and I can watch those big, strong men with their big strong machines putting up the walls to the the prefab hell I get to live in. Won't that be lovely. And I can shop at the Gap and oh, I can get little matching sweater sets for me and the girls and of course that silly Kurt Cobain poster I have, well, I can keep it in the shed with my worn out red sneakers and my NIN t-shirt and my thousands of books, and peek at them once in a while to remind myself that I used to be human.