It’s been said that a praise cannot be understood by outsiders unless they know what effort went into the praise to make it happen.

By now, you know about Big Blue. The awesome century-old fixer upper that is moldier than last month’s bread and has a floor that sags on one side of the house. $50,000 of rehab work should make her livable again.

Before that was the college dorm.

Before that we rented for a year. It wasn’t a bad house. Kinda small and horrible Internet service, but it fit the bill.

Backtrack to our apartment where the water was routinely out every week for a full day, the adjoining neighbors would beat each other up and have the police there at all hours of the night (not to mention there were several people living there that weren’t on the lease.)

Before that we’d moved into a relative’s house to help them get back on their feet. We moved out two weeks later and that’s all I’ll say about that.

Before that it was an apartment with a heavy flea infestation. So much so that you could see them jumping around on the carpet in droves. We should have charged them rent.

Which leads us back to our first house, which was an awesome house, the one that got away.

So let’s fast forward to today, shall we? Past the fleas, the dog (not ours, to be clear) that wasn’t housebroken and peed all over our furniture (on a good note, my son got a new mattress when we moved so there’s that), the relative, the water problems, domestically-challenged neighbors,  internet that refused to work except after 11 pm (thus spawing the night owl habits I’m known for now), and the dorm.

Now we’re living in what I’ll affectionately call, The Ant Farm.

Yes, it took about 13 weeks to get hot water to the kitchen and the laundry closet. And it took about 2 months to have gas installed to the kitchen stove so we could cook. And yes, there’s a hole in the kitchen where I’m sure you’ll fall through if you step too firmly. But it’s still a potentially good home to buy and fix up. 

Right?

I overlooked the fact that our house had been rolled twice and egged once in a mistaken identity incident. (I heard the incident from a neighbor in Sunday school one morning as she was relaying the confused looks on her son’s friends’ faces when they found out he lived in the yellow house on the corner, not the white one.) I even overlooked the squirrels in the roof (not on. ON the roof would imply that they had not yet burrowed a hole into the siding and set up a nest for the 7,000 babies they’re undoubtedly birthing under the shingles) of the garage.

That was until we saw our first ant. He seemed pretty innocent, walking across the counter like he was lost.

Poor little ant.

His little ant friend was lost too. And then, I tell you, when I squashed him (think of the germs, people) he must have let out what I can only presume was a battle cry. Ants have since been marching through my home like the existence of their very species depends solely on how many of them can get on a counter at once.

They crawl on the bathroom counter.  (Hello, there’s no food in the bathroom! Who eats in the bathroom? That’s just gross!) In the kitchen. Even marching three rooms away into the living room. They marched into the cat food before I started putting it in sealed containers. In fact, every morsel of food is now in Tupperware or ziploc bags or the refrigerator, because if I set a glass of anything on a coaster in the living room it’ll be ant food before you blink.  We now drink and eat standing up because if you set your plate down for more than 3 seconds something is going to eat the food on it.

Trust me, it’s not that we don’t clean. We do. Every day. Did I mention there’s a hole in the floor in the kitchen? A squishy hole about the size of a easy chair with cracks between the laminate wood? And there’s also a hole in the floor behind the dishwasher? And that our cat stays up every night watching for any mice that pop up out of the ground behind the dishwasher? Because there’s a hole in the kitchen. (She’s caught two so far. Bless her.) No amount of cleaning can negate the hole in the floor, I promise.

So what I’m saying is, when we do buy a house – and we will – when I shout from the rooftops how good God is, know that you will then fully understand how big of a praise it is.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.

XOXO,

Karen

P.S. We looked at a house today.  It was cute. Don’t take my word for it, though.  Just ask any of the 347 wasps we saw coming in and out of their nests around the windows. 😉