Time to go

After many weeks of wringing my hands, pacing my floors and bracing myself for the last-minute snag that would unravel the dream, it is official: We really and truly have our house.

Sal picked up the keys Thursday afternoon and headed over with Chickenbone for a look. Unfortunately, because I was submerged in finishing a huge project at work, I had to miss the very first turning of the lock and creaking open of the front door. I also missed the dog's first poop, which I'm told occurred on the pavement of the driveway, despite the grass, dirt and woodchips in HIS VERY OWN BACK YARD, the back yard mom and dad were certain he'd love to poop in. Chickenbone, he's so urban.

But I joined the party right after work and spent a good half hour walking through the empty rooms, opening all the cupboards and drawers, flipping light switches on and off. We found a six-pack of Gordon Biersch in the fridge (a little housewarming gift from our real-estate agent) so we cracked open two bottles and sat on our front porch, basking in homeownership until the sun went down. Bliss.

Now comes the last hard part, packing, moving, unpacking. I think we plan to disassemble the home computer tomorrow, and I hope to christ I can limit my time at the office this week, so I might not be doing much in this space for a few days. But that does not mean, teeny little blog audience, that I won't be thinking of you.