The End before the Beginning

Our house is 95% done, and we own it. We got the keys on Thursday night and gave DA MAN da check. Today we had our $11,500 worth of furniture delivered in 3 shifts. It worked out smoothly and the house looks beeeeeeutiful. The kitchen is pictured here.



Only problem is that there was a miscommunication between my hubby and the plumber. I wonder if this plumber shows his butt crack. He IS a butt crack in my book, because he failed to show up the last two days and as a result we have no water. Therefore we can't move in.

And there is nothing but mud around our house, so you gotta put on your mud boots just to access it. I swear, those are the only two complaints I have; I am not going to start whining about a brand new unexpected house. Aye, there's the rub.

I didn't expect to be living in a brand new house 4 months ago. I was content in our old home. And by old, I mean 1920's Victorian. But I LOOOOOVE the new house. I've explained this paradox before, but it is still here. Except there's a new twist.

Now that the new stuff is here, and I am accumulating stuff again, I am kinda happy the old house burned down. It's OK that I had to sacrifice everything to start all over. Hmmmmm. Is this a turning point? It's like the end of one chapter, the beginning of the next. Or, it's like the title insinuates, the end before the beginning...the beginning of the rest of our lives.