We've been renting our current apartment for 4yr
now, and yesterday our bid was accepted on a house.
Needless to say, it's been a whirlwind of a day.
Shopping for mortgages, emailing attorneys,
organizing pay stubs, etc.
But what struck me most has been the sensation that
the small routines of my life will be changed.
The little things, like the dishwasher door needing
an extra shove or the lamp chord working 25% of the time.
In our four years here I've come to accept them
as part of life; seemingly infinite in nature.
And then just like that, they're finite. As I
loaded the dishwasher tonight, I thought about how
it was one of the last dozen times I would run it.
It's a peculiar feeling. A mix of excitement for
the future and bittersweet nostalgia. I've felt
it before when changing jobs--having the daily
stressers suddenly evaporate. What felt core to
my existence turning out to be just a phase.
It's funny because I know these things are temporary.
Renting was never meant to be permanent. The
dishwasher could have been replaced. And of course
we all die one day. But to have routines of unknown
length suddenly truncated feels like a burden lifted.
This is almost definitely melodramatic; I blame it
on the fact that I'm halfway through White Noise by
Don DeLillo. Still I think there's something to the
thought. It's amusing I ever let the small annoyances
become part of my routine at all. Only to appreciate
them most when I know they're temporary.
