Friday, June 09, 2006

like the bird that flew

"he tells me that you have an odd hobby" nathan wrote. hobby is a much better word than say fixation, and it's true - every day i look at places for rent. if i drive past a "for rent" sign on someone's lawn, pasted to their fence, staring through their front window, it is likley i will stop, or at least circle the block a few times. partly, it's because i've an ever present grass-is-greener voice when it comes to living spaces. partly it's because i have, historically, moved a lot and it's become a force of habit. that, and i have a very strong nest-y urge. but that urge resets itself every so often, manifesting in wanting to tear down and rebuild elsewhere. the frequency is unrealistic, surely. partly, it's voyeuristic, wanting to know the insides of things.

in truth, we do need more space. but the decision was to wait until next year to move, making my daily routine of home hunting excessive in terms of preliminary research. so when the above note arrived as a request to help look for a place, i devoured the task with fervor. there was an actual purpose to my perusing! i honestly enjoyed it, and i wonder if that is unusual. perhaps my inner real estate agent needs some love and attention...

the marvel now is that, with all my outside looking and circling of blocks, a suite became unexpectedly available in our happy co-op. and it is perfect. it was down to me and one other applicant, and in anticipation of the verdict i wrote and drew on the august 1st page in my black book, imagining opening new curtains (new nest = new curtains, non?) on those side windows and letting all the morning sunshine that i know floods that side of the building in. into our new bedroom and our new home...

and it is our new home! or will be, as we are moving! the biggest wonder of it all, is that my hobby has ended. no minutes of my day, since finding out the place is our's, has been spent on looking at places for rent. no rent signs have lured my foot to the break, the urge has up and moved on itself, as it were.

this is new. will it return? is this the place that won't have me longing for another? will those new curtains frame a lasting home? we'll see. in the meantime, i've got to start packing.