On August 14, 2010, I lost my dream home. We’d slowly flipped houses from the time we’d married. We would buy a house, fix it up, get a job offer and move. But instead of selling our house, we would rent it out and get another one that wasn’t keeping up with the Jones’s. One that was a little smaller, a little rougher, a little cheaper, but always a little cute. Except the one with the gigantic above ground pool, rotting deck, mosquitos, and a freezer full of rotting meat. That one was not cute, it was just a lot of sweat.
That August, 2010, I’d stood on the lovely concrete deck of the home we’d finally fallen in love with. I watched as a cement truck rotated grey sludge into the decommissioned septic tank under my feet. That was the be the last push toward solving the 5 year puzzle that our dream house had been. I didn’t yet know, but we would give up, our health screaming and whimpering for attention. Our funds exhausted and our creativity stolen, we would escape.
7 long years later, we’re now tucked into a little cottage with too much stuff. This August we’ve finally installed a new deck at this new place. We set up a pool for the first time this year and then promptly split the liner. So, once again I’m dealing with a broken pool, but unlike the flipped house, this one is cute.
I’ve been posting occasionally on Instagram @rosemoors if you want to see cute deck pics.