Provo House: The Final Chapter

It's been over a month.  I'm ready to talk about it.  OK, not really, but I will anyway.

We sold our house in Provo.

It was rough going.

We lost money on the house every month.  Every. Single. Month. since we moved out almost 4 years ago.  But I couldn't let it go.  It was my first house.  My first baby.  That's a little dramatic, but I don't think you understand how much I loved that house.  It had it's flaws and I didn't plan on living in it forever, but it was stolen away from me too early.  Really, it was more like the high school boyfriend that you know you're going to have to break up with after senior year because you're going to go to different colleges but you want to at least hold onto it until graduation, but then in the middle of sophomore year you move and you try to keep the long distance thing going but it just doesn't work out.  And then you have to evict a tenet, who then sues you, and you have the other tenet complain about every little thing (I kid you not, she called to complain about finding 3 big spiders one day--Greg told her to kill them) and you finally hire a real tax accountant and she looks at your taxes and says, "There is no reason for you to keep this house.  Sell it."  And then you list it.  And it feels good.  The long-distance boyfriend/house has been so abusive for so long, you decide to end it.  But first you have to find him/it a new girlfriend/owner.  And you still really love the house and know it's an amazing place to live in the middle of up and coming downtown Provo so you ask a lot, but it's worth a lot, just not from 2000 miles away. And so you wait.  And wait.

Finally in November, after listing the house in April, we got a good offer. We jumped through all sorts of hoops.  But the offer fell through, twice.  In January, we got a second offer.  This time I refused to jump hoops until the buyers had real skin in the game.  They retracted their offer a week later.  Later that day we got a third offer.  A pretty good one.  Not as good as the first, not as bad as the second.  We jumped through a few hoops, waited some more, and then one day the money from the sell of the house showed up in our account.  And life went on.  I bought sparkling cider to celebrate selling the house when we got the first offer, but by the time the house actually sold, I just didn't care anymore.  Nothing.  No feeling at all.  Not relief that it was gone.  Not eleation that we got a chunck of change.  Not even sadness.  Nothing.

And it was strange to feel nothing.  I was prepared to feel a storm of emtions.  I even thought I might cry because I really did love that house.  But nothing.

And then the new girlfriend/owner called to ask a few questions about the house.  Not cool.  I was over the house.  We had had our time together, but to call and remind me of all the reasons why I loved that house and love Provo and on Rex's birthday even.  It sent me into a fit of nostalia blinding my vision and fogging my mind as I tried to wrangle Rex and three friends into the bowling alley.

It's been a month now.  I'm still glad we sold the house.  It was a good decision.  I learned a lot about prayer and faith and patience as the house sat unsold and losing money month after month.  More importantly (is it ok for something to be more important than learning about prayer?), I don't dread my phone ringing anymore. Because if it is the tenets, I get to tell them I don't care.  The realtor doesn't want to talk to me any more either, so I know it's not him.  It's probably just my mom.  It's usually my mom.  And since I'm not 16 anymore, I don't dread my mom calling (not that I ever did actually--my mom is pretty cool).  I paid the bills this week in 15 minutes.  That's down from the hour or two it used to take.  I didn't have to account for or call or arranage anyone to fix anything in the house.  We only have like 3 bills to pay now.  Three!  House, utilities, internet, phone, health insurance...ok more than three, but no repair bills.  And so I'm free.  A great burden of stress and worry is off my shoulders.

But I still miss Provo every day.  And probably will for the rest of life.  And then, when I die, I will move back to Provo.  And it will be glorious.  Probably even into that house to be honest, because I love it that much.