It's official. We now have five acres and a home in Lee County. It's complete with electric service, a telephone, and a post office box for mail. Now the fun begins.
Our new place needs some work. A lot of work. I keep jumping to step 67 (rearrange furniture) while Alan just wants to concentrate on step 1 (mow down the overgrown bushes) and then move on to step 2 (de-critter the place) before jumping ahead to step 3 (pull out the damaged kitchen cabinets). It's a fun process.
I've been a little put off lately that Alan hasn't taken me up on my
offer to come down and scrub the walls with bleach while he removes and replaces the kitchen floors. As I was making the three-hour drive down there today, it dawned on me just how much he looks like a six year old on Christmas Eve. He's really excited about his new project, and in the back of his mind, I think he considers this his Charles Ingalls moment when he gets to build a house for h
is family with his own two hands.I like this in him. It is pure masculine energy at it's best. And in my book, there is nothing sexier in a man than his ability to intuitively know the square footage of a room and exactly how many 87 degree angles he will have to cut in the laminate flooring. Or the proper tire pressure for a 1967 Mustang. Even if my brain sits there thinking, "Huh?", my heart just thumps out of my chest when he starts talking about socket sizes.
The really cool part of all this is that through his sweat and swear words and incredible engineering genius, he is doing something for us. That's a priceless feeling. It takes me back to when we first met and spent $10 taking silly pictures in the photo booth at Lakeland Square Mall. (If you know my husband, you know he totally did the goof-ball thing for me.)
Now we just have to figure out the semantics of actually living together full-time after seven years of a long distance marriage.
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Oh, and you can pitch your tent. Or sleep inside if the wilderness sounds are too much. I hear we're in Florida panther country.