I’m blogging from the bathroom, if that gives you any indication of not only my love for you, dear Readers, but of the insanely busy-crazy week we are having over here. Let me give you a little run down.

On Tuesday, we looked at a house. On Wednesday, we met with a mortgage lender, an accountant, and a real estate agent. On Thursday, we bid on said house. On Friday, we found out said bid was accepted. On Saturday, we filed our mortgage application, signed our offer contract, and scheduled the home inspection. In five days flat, we went from “Hey, what’s a house?” to “Whoa, that’s our house!”

I wish I could explain to you how I am feeling right now. Aside from the obvious “What the hell?” moments, I am a smoothie of blended emotions. The truth is, I can’t explain it very well. This whole house thing has just happened so fast. Our new home is still in the city that we love, in a wonderful neighborhood full of old houses, city parks, coffee shops, art galleries and the like. It is cozy and warm and ready to be made a home. We are moving in December.

I am so grateful that this shot in the dark of ours has turned out so well. So much we don’t deserve is happening right now in front of our faces. We don’t deserve to find a house that is the same monthly cost as our current rent. We don’t deserve to get chosen in a multiple-offer bidding session. We most certainly don’t deserve to be approved for a loan. A loan from a bank. A big, fat loan from a big, fat bank.

We are going back to see the house later this week, so I will try to remember to take pictures. After, of course, I stop running around the yard screaming, “This is OUR HOUSE!”