The funny thing about buying a home is that timing is seldom perfect. Unlike going from rental to rental and looking for Aug. 1 or Sept. 1 move-in dates, home sales happen... whenever they can.
Over the past few weeks, Amanda has moved her stuff (mostly clothes) to my place, and as of this week she's officially living in the Ballard Burrow with me and The Wives. All of her stuff is in my room, of course, and the personal possessions of two 20-somethings does not fit easily into 150 square feet. We've stacked high but already had some falls like a lost game of Jenga.
But it's temporary. The house sale is slowly moving along, and in the interim the Wives have been super-flexible (with the incentive that when I move out they can turn my room into a yoga/pilates room). I'm thankful for that.
Probably the most difficult part of living in sin right now is how temporal everything is. We can't quite settle in at Ballard: We can't unpack Amanda; I can't pack up yet. We don't have a lot of room to move around. We're like caged birds - happy and singing, but probably happier with more room to fly around.
Homebuying is, in a lot of ways, a trip. This trip happens to have a layover.