Making Other Plans

The Husband Dude and I apparently spend 75% of our time being cheapasses when it comes to spending money…and then 25% of the time impulse spending on stuff you really shouldn’t impulse buy.

Enter Exhibit A:

Our dishwasher broke down a couple of years after we moved into our house. We were not in a position to buy a new one. The Dude was not working full time after having been laid off a few years before and we were still paying private school tuition for our youngest, so a lot of things around the house fell apart and we just sort of adapted to them if we couldn’t fix them ourselves.

When our microwave decided to bite the dust, it was time to hit the appliance store. Our microwave is built-in, so we couldn’t just pop over to WalFart and buy one to set on the counter. We would have to have one that would fit in the space and a professional installer who knew how to make sure it would sit in its spot correctly. We decided to bite the bullet and get a dishwasher as well, since we (but really me 95% of the time) were tired of washing dishes by hand, especially after big family dinners.

We were still being cheapasses, though, and went to the scratch and dent outlet for one of our well-known local retailers. When we went to pick out our dishwasher and microwave, the salesman saw us coming a mile away was really smooth and offered us a deep discount if we bought the gas range that went with the other two appliances.

I mean, I am my father’s daughter, and I really love a good bargain. Plus, I had never really liked the almond-colored stove top we inherited from the previous owners. So naturally, we agreed to take the range.

Then I spotted the washers and dryers. Don’t get me wrong. Laverne and Shirley (my washer and dryer at that time) were really good workhorses. I had inherited them from my mother when she went into an apartment that had a washer/dryer provided. At that point, Laverne and Shirley were probably fifteen years old and even though they were still running fairly well, Shirley just couldn’t dry clothes as quickly as she used to and I was really worried that Laverne was going to start leaking out her bottom (ugh!) because I’m an insurance adjuster and we always assume the worst about anything mechanical, electrical, plumbing-related or nature made.

Everything. We assume the worst about everything.

I will admit that I eyeballed Zsa Zsa and Ava, with their front-loading doors and fancy lights and settings, but the sales guy actually did me a solid and told me if I wanted something that would last as long as Laverne and Shirley, or even longer, then I really needed to go with the less expensive but more practical Lucy and Ethel. Lucy and Ethel didn’t have as many buttons or settings, but they were commercial-grade and would get the job done for many years to come, so naturally, I threw those in with the other items we had already agreed to buy.

For the last several years, The Dude and I have joked about, “Remember the time we went in for a dishwasher and came out with a new kitchen?” We never thought we would top that one until this week when we came home with…well, a new house.

This story starts sixteen years ago when my mother, The Dude, and I decided to go in together and build our dream house. Not only would we have a wonderful place to raise The Kid, but we would be able to care for my mom in her golden years. We really thought we were there forever.

Except…life has a way of happening while you are making other plans.

And life did happen.

Separation. Illness. A layoff. New job. Another layoff. Death.

Through no fault of our own, we had to give up the dream, tighten our belts, and some days, just focus on surviving. We moved into our current house with the idea that it would be temporary. Just a couple of years, until we could get back on our feet.

It wasn’t that it was a horrible house. We love the neighborhood and our neighbors are the best. Not to mention all my porch pets! It’s just that we found it in such a hurry and had to make things move so quickly that we really didn’t have time to figure out if the house “checked all our boxes.”

It didn’t.

Just a couple of years turned into eight years. The Dude found a good job again. I was doing well in my job. We had pulled ourselves slowly out of a hole and started to think about the future. We let ourselves start dreaming again.

Then life happened again.

Satan’s Butthole announced that a closing date was imminent. I wasn’t mobile, so I was losing my job.

Making other plans. Shit.

Fast forward another three years. The Dude and I have talked about getting another house for a while now. We talk about all the things we want. The check boxes.

We’ve been dreaming again. Only this time, the dream is a little smaller and more realistic. The Dude wants to retire in a couple of years. I’ll keep working a while longer. Maybe I’ll write a book. The Dude wants to paint. We drive around our little city of Broken Arrow to see what’s available. We like it here and we want to stay.

A week ago, we went to check out a new addition by one of our local builders. We joked about the fact that the neighborhood is directly across the street from where we built the “dream house”. We looked at some models and floor plans. The next thing we knew, we were picking colors and finishes.

We drove away going, “What just happened?”

My wheels were spinning. “I don’t know how we can do it.”

Then the conversation became, “Well…we could maybe cash this out and transfer that…”

I delivered a check and reserved a lot.

Are we really doing this?

In bed, in the darkness, as the silence settled over the house and even the cats’ purring faded away into sleep, we talked.

“Are we really doing this?” The Dude asked.

I paused before answering. “I….” My voice faltered.

“What?” The Dude’s voice asked in the darkness.

I clasped his hand. “I’m tired of waiting to live. I don’t want to dream about it anymore. I just want to live.”

He leaned over and kissed me, and I knew that meant he agreed.

So, yeah…spending money like we actually have it.

Then I walked into work today and found out my office may be moving downtown, thirty minutes away.

Of course. Because I just bought a lot for a house thirteen minutes away from the office I currently work in.

Because life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans…