So we're not done done (and if there's one thing I've figured out about home ownership in the past 2 weeks it's that you're never actually done), but we're pretty much done. Every day I went over a list of "open items" with the contractor and today, there were no items left on the list.

Things are pretty much in the place they'll be for the next 20-30 years, I suppose. I think about that sometimes.

The family we bought the house from were in their mid-late sixties. Who knows what will happen, of course, but I feel like when I'm putting something in a drawer in the utility room or deciding where a bookshelf is going, there's a decent chance that someday, many years from now, it's from that exact same place that Tamar or I will remove it. Inertia is a pretty strong force. That's why I told Tamar that we had to unpack our boxes by Jan. 1st. If we weren't done, I knew those boxes would be there for the next 20 years.

Well, we moved in with about 60 and now there are only 3 left. There are a handful of items remaining, but now, we move from the "la-la land" of playing house and spending money like it's going out of style (we did some work on the house-my basic philosophy being it's much better to rip out walls and create dust for major infrastructure projects now than to disrupt our lives at some point in the future) to a family with a mortgage and a budget to live by.

Beyond that though is the thought that this is where the Epstein family will grow into itself. The first night we slept in the house and we put Calanit to sleep, we both cried. It's as if this house is a ship and with it, we will travel the rocky seas of life together.

I knew all along that the house would become an emotional purchase and now that the walls are painted, the rugs are down, the pictures are up, and of course, my little "man cave" of technology mission control is set up, I've finally allowed myself to feel that.

Now, we can get on with the business of life, as it were. I think about the rooms and the moments, both glad and sad, that we will inevitably experience in them. When Tamar is out and Calanit is asleep, I stand in the middle of the kitchen and listen to the sound of the house, looking out towards the the backyard, our backyard (well, the bank's, but you know what I mean) and think about what the future will bring.

There are times when I feel unworthy of this house. That it's such a blessing and we don't deserve the good fortune. When will the other shoe drop? Then, I just take a breath and appreciate where we are, when we are there.