House Happy

I was one of those kids who looked forward to the day when my report card came in the mail. I loved ripping in it, slowly unveiling each course and each grade that corresponded with the themed work I had done over the course of the year, and each of the comments that my teachers left for me. To me, getting an A was good, but getting a great comment was better.

I would relish in comments such as:
'Lo's enthusiasm is contagious.' (I loved that one.)
'Lo's enthusiasm is a joy to behold in class.'
'Lo is overly enthusiastic.' (I now wonder if this particular comment had a sense of irony to it. Like the teacher was actually trying to say, 'pipe down crazy!')

It's 100 percent true though - one of my strongest suits has always been an excitement and zest for life. In school, it boiled up after the Ranchers won the 'State A Fact' title in fourth grade, when I threw my pencil down and finished a Math test before Paul B., when I aced a performance on opening night in the school play, when I scored the winning goal in a field hockey or lacrosse game, or most commonly, when a teacher revealed a piece of knowledge or understanding that was fresh and new to me - something that I could pocket and take home to use as a trump card in the game of who knows the most around the family dinner table.
'Did you know? Oh you didn't? Well, listen to this. Aren't I something now?'

This weekend I learned that my signature enthusiasm, that zeal that afforded me the highest marks possible in classroom participation, doesn't have the same luster in the subject, house-buying.

Here's how it went down. I had set myself up for a best day ever type scenario: Long run, hair cut, Red Mango, house inspection, movie, dinner with Bob and Melissa - it was going to be amazing. After churning and burning 11.5 miles in 85 minutes, I was pumped. Six inches later, while bobbing and bouncing my new do down the street to get an ice cream, I was on cloud nine. Then when I pulled up to our (potentially) new house, and the seller's realtor drew the 'under contract' card and matched it to mine, I nearly exploded with excitement.

'WOW! I LOVE that sign!!'
'Oh my God, I'm obsessed with this House.'
'Can you please, PLEASE help make it happen by April 5. Oh, I'm just SO excited.'

With each of these (and other give-us-away comments) I would see Peter's face go from a straight, business-like mug, to a pursed lip, shaking head, rolling eyes, threatening, 'shut the F up' expression. He finally pulled me aside to let me know I was playing the game all wrong. I should keep a stern poker face - especially to the seller's realtor.

Seriously? How was I supposed to contain all the hopes and dreams that this house held to me?
The summer nights we would watch the big storm come in while sipping a home brew on the lanais.

The evenings we would snuggle by the fireplace to keep the cold Chicago winter off our backs. 

Our kids running down the stairs on Saturday morning to curb their aroma-inspired appetites with dad's bacon.

Making sure the top and bottom are locked when we were going to head out of town for the weekend.

Knowing that there are relatives watching over this house from above.

Displaying our wedding china and crystal in the built in hutch.

Understanding that the kind of TLC that this house needs is something that only Peter and I will be able to make possible.

And thinking that 326 isn't so far from 126. Built about 15 years apart. Filled with the potential for just as many memories, special niches, and epic feasts.

I'm really hoping my formerly high-scoring enthusiasm doesn't spoil anything. And I'm still crossing my fingers that within the next week or so, all parties will give this deal a go.

Lo.