It’s closing time. I didn’t start working as the manager of a creperie or shoe store or shoe store/creperie combo store. Although remind me to revisit that someday soon. That’s a fantastic idea. No, I am referring to the Big Moment Wife and I have been working towards for the past 12 months. Namely, saving money (big thankful hug to Father and Mother-in-Law for making that possible!), looking for potential homes, finding our home, putting an offer in, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, securing a loan, waiting, waiting, waiting, freaking out about all the potential homeownership disasters we’re inheriting, waiting, and, finally, scribbling our names on 5,700 pieces of paper to get a set of keys. AND JUST LIKE THAT, we have our very own street address. That address happens to come with four walls and a roof, which is a nice bonus. Honestly, if I knew what a long, arduous process homebuying was before we started on this insane journey, I probably would have purchased a motor home on a plot of government testing ground in the desert and called it a day. Sure, there are a few disadvantages to buying property in areas where bombs and heavy artillery are tested on a daily basis, but you don’t have to deal with realtors, lawyers, bankers and above all, the mountains of paperwork associated with conventional real estate. Am I thrilled to be a homeowner? Yes. Am I also seeing stars and feel like my brain just passed a stone? Yes. Where’s the Tylenol?