#2. It's a good thing that I bought an 80-something year old house, because its drafty windows and imperfect plaster have taught me an important lesson about life.
Not many people would be as enamored with my house as I am. The thought of leaving it, selling it, abandoning it, having a fire or disaster (I'm just being paranoid because of the fire reported on the news this morning) gets me a little shaky and blurry-eyed. I love every nook and cranny of my vintage shelter: its leaning garage, the sinking stoop, the poorly renovated kitchen (soon to be remedied, mind you), the terracotta-colored walls, the half-story bedrooms, the miniature bathroom.
Why don't other people get my fascination with the old home? Because it's old. It needs love, it needs constant attention and constant maintenance. Which brings me to another conclusion: I'm beginning to notice a trend, that as a culture, we want things maintenance-free.
- We don't want to paint the exteriors of our homes -- generalizing, I see a lot of people wrapping their suburban (and even -- gasp -- urban) homes in pvc siding and calling it a day.
- We don't want to change the oil in our cars -- hence, the new models that can go several thousand more miles between oil changes (as the daughter of an auto mechanic, I am terrifically skeptic about this...)
- We don't want to work to maintain our relationships. Somewhere along the line, I was fed a line about how relationships are "happily ever after". Now, I know that's not true. And I have for years. But how come we never hear about the ensuing battle when Cinderella cannot balance the checkbook? What about the big argument pursuant to Prince Charming's control issues?
My challenge to myself in all this is, you reap the fruits of your labors. Maintaining that which has staying potential, while more difficult in the short term, will longitudinally create a rich, deep, perserveringly meaningful experience -- in my home, in my Ford, and in my marriage.
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