…In Which I Own My House

I’ve always wanted to start a post using the popular “in which” verbiage.  How satisfying, Reggie.

As many folks know, the house my wife and I share used to be my grandparents’ house.  My grandpa had it built in 1951, a year after my mom was born and a year before my uncle.  They were raised there and my grandparents lived in the house together until 2008 (I believe) when my grandmother had to be transferred to a nursing home.  Grandpa stayed in the abode until he left us in February 2010, just over two years ago.

It’s a small house.  Just a simple, 1-story place with two living rooms, a kitchen, a sun room, a laundry area, 3 small bedrooms, a bathroom and a garage.  There’s nothing overly thrilling about it or incredibly unique.  Except for what it means to us.

Crooked, bad sun glare and horrible winter landscaping. What an appealing photo.

The room that started as my mother’s bedroom eventually became my grandma’s bedroom, and now serves as our spare room and a future nursery.  The room that was my uncle’s bedroom became a spare for my grandparents, and a home away from home for me to sleep and hang out when I was a child.  While my wife and I only moved in during the spring of 2010, I’ve been with the house since my existence started in 1985.  Three generations of my family have now lived here, and that number will become four when Laura and I create another (assuming the poodle and schnauzer don’t count).  I think that’s pretty special, and I doubt many people get to say four generations of their family have all had the opportunity to share the same walls.

When we moved in, we didn’t have the fortune of simply inheriting the house.  With my grandma in a nursing home, the house didn’t become hers when my grandpa died – it effectively became Medicaid’s because the government is awesome.  As did everything else she owned.  So to make a very long story very short, my family had to buy the house from Medicaid.  A family house that had been paid off for probably 30 years had to be re-bought so we could continue to own it.  My parents picked up the bill because Laura and I had no money, and they’ve been hanging onto that fantastic debt for us for the past two years, the fine set of fancy-knickered folks they are.

Until this past weekend.  We finally got it settled, and as things have continued to improve for us, Laura and I were able to rid my parents of that burden and officially take over the house we love.

So while it’s been our home for two years now, it’s officially our house.  And that is awesome.


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