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Oh, hi little blog of mine.

I swear I didn’t forget about you.  I have thought about you over the past several weeks.

This should now be the post where I write about the big move into the house we have spent months building.  It is supposed to be a great, big, happy post about this next chapter in our lives and perhaps that is the exact reason why I haven’t written,  besides the lack of time, this has been the most stressful and least happy moment for us.

I could write out the story for you with all of the details but in the end I hate repeating the details.  Every little thing added up from the day we started building to only explode in front of us 12 hours before the movers were to show up.  We were given an all clear during our walk through with my the builder when in fact we shouldn’t have.  You see, there was an issue that we were told was cleared up, that only the builder could clear up, when in fact it hadn’t been cleared up and we could not get permanent occupancy to close.

We sat, surrounded by boxes in the apartment 12 hours before movers showed up and I saw my husband break down for the first time.  For the first time I worried about his sobriety when he told him it took everything he had to not drive directly to the bar instead of to the apartment.  The builder and him had an explosive argument on the phone and the builder crossed enough lines that my Husband was not even going to move into the house.  In that moment we were going to beg the apartment  complex to let us stay on a few more days while we found somewhere else to go.  We ended up moving in the house the next day anyways mainly because we literally had nowhere to go.

Boxes were moved, utilities turned on, appliances delivered and one issue after another happened.  The painters were still painting the front door but the movers need the front door off the hinges.  One truck  was stuck in the mud outside while the phone guy was complaining because he was told lines would be buried.  The husband had to work that day and all I could do was direct the craziness while my sister and another dear friend tried to help.  It felt like we were trying to put out a forest fire with cups of water only.  The whole time I was waiting for a call from the builder.  Something to let me know it was all a mistake, something with an apology, something that gave us a glimmer of hope and to this day it hasn’t come.

That night, once we were all  moved in, we opened a bottle of wine I had saved and it just didn’t taste right.  There was no exciting Facebook post, there was no first time home pictures, and there were no papers signed.  We stood with all of our stuff in a place that suddenly felt foreign because we now faced a horrible reality.  We may have to move out of this house.

The weekend continued into one horror after another to end with someone trying to break into our new house while I was home by myself.  I learned it takes the police 12 minutes to get there and even longer when the 911 sign hasn’t been put up.  I had to quickly remember where the guns were.  We were at the end of our rope and now I was afraid to be in my home.

We have spent the past three weeks in this house and seem to grow more disconnected to it each day.  We refuse to hang anything on the walls and we have a contingency plan put into place if we don’t get to close.  The only thing we have heard from our builder is that he wants us to pay him rent on our own house because we couldn’t close on an issue that is all his fault.  Quickly our rate that we have locked in will run out and then, well, insert plan B.  Move again. Find somewhere.  Hire a lawyer.

Our lives have been completely on hold while this fog of stress looms around us.  We are afraid to breathe or move forward.  We don’t have anything to move forward to actually.  It is a weird holding place.  We are consumed with the little things we are to do right now-watering the sod, emptying the Husband’s other home, and trying to organize our boxes without unpacking everything.  So we wait and pray.  We dig deep for hope and try to keep hold of what little faith we have left in anything possibly going right with this house because not a single thing has.  Perhaps 2 years from now this will all be a distant memory and a hard lesson learned.  For right now, it is really fucking hard.