Bulging Foundations

Adult life comes with a lot of knowledge I really wish wasn’t necessary. For example, I hate that I know what a Roth IRA is. I cringe at the fact that I am putting 10 percent of my money into one of these twice a month rather than frivolously spending, or saving for something more immediate and entertaining. I hate that wanting to live in a house means actually physically having to look at houses and know what I’m looking at. 
Despite these wishes and hatreds, life continues on. I do have an IRA, and I am looking at houses.   
I have had to very quickly learn things about houses that I never wanted to know so that I don’t buy, in the simplest terms, a shithole. The worst part is that this house hunt has brought me to the stark realization that I am the only one in charge of the final decision on this. I’m going to have to pick the house and then live in it alongside every member of the Consequence family who were hiding in the rafters waiting for me to sign the paperwork before they revealed themselves. 

It’s really strange thinking about things that I want, a house and a dog and a yard, and yet at the same time feeling a little space inside of me scream in terror that I not settle down, that I stay far from the burden of cracked foundations and flooded basements as long as I can. 

Yesterday I joked that Bulging Foundations would be a good name for a rock band, but the truth is that it would be a good title for this piece of my life. Foundations don’t migrate in a day. They move slowly. The outside pushes it in, and it takes ages before anything visible happens. That movement is so slow for so long, and then one day you notice it all at once, like it had been that way the whole time and you just never saw. It allows the outside world in, and it forces a decision, whether you want it or not. 

All this change has me feeling like I’m waiting for something to crack. I’m sitting on these antiquated interior support structures that seemed good and solid when they were put in, but they weren’t meant to last. No matter what I had done along the line they were bound to break and need replaced. I’m in the middle of feeling like I’ve walked into my basement and found it full of water, knowing that it’s my, and only my, responsibility to deal with.  

But maybe instead of caving in as a house does my foundation is pushing out. I’m growing, everything doesn’t fit into my space anymore, I’m in need of an expansion but I’m putting it off because I know it’s going to be terrifyingly painful and expensive. I can’t see anything positive because I’m still in that state of initial finding, panic, and “why” saying.

It’s always going to look scary, until it doesn’t because I’m ready for it. Eventually the want for more will overtake the fear that peer pressures me to exclude change. It’ll happen someday, and who knows, maybe when it does I’ll have a celebration in my new space. You’ll know it’s me, you’ll be able to hear the Bulging Foundations playing from a mile away. 


1 Comment

  1. The Consequence Family sounds like a folk band who could play songs like “Bulging Foundations” along with “The Simplest of Shitholes” and “Excluding Change”.

    Watch Parenthood when grandma is talking about liking the roller coaster versus the merry go round. The excitement and the sick feeling is part of the ride. The merry go round just goes around. Buying a house. Same.


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