You shouldn't fall in love with a bond or a stock or a piece of gold, because if you do, you're a bad investor. The problem (as people who sell and fix and build houses understand) is that you just might fall in love with a house. What a dumb reason to make the biggest financial investment of your life.
--Seth Godin, "How to Buy a House"
My relationship with my house is definitely a mid-life marriage. I looked for the right attributes, made sure it was solid, and made a decision pretty thoughtfully. I'm at an age where I know what I want. Before the big day I wasn't giddy or emotional, and I didn't cry with happiness the first night there. But I didn't have cold feet, either. It felt right.
As the days go on, though, I find myself loving my home more and more. I've found the squeaky floor joist in the office, cleaned up the pretty atrium tucked in behind the shed where someone decades ago laid beautiful fieldstone and made a little area for potting plants. The back yard, now that the piles of leaves are gone, has revealed thoughtful landscaping where things bloom in stages. It's private and so peaceful. I surprise myself frequently by truly sitting still for an extended period of time, probably for the first time since I was a child.
I really have fun entertaining friends at my house, but my enjoyment of it isn't because it impresses others. The kitchen cabinets don't close quite right, and there are little nicks and cracks here and there. It's not a new and fabulous structure, but it's weathered time well and doesn't try to be anything it's not. And it makes me really, really happy.