My wife and I just became homeowners!
Scratch that… my wife and I just signed a 30 year mortgage with a lending company to supply payments to said lending company to eventually own a home!
Nevertheless, we’re called homeowners for lack of a better term to describe someone who’s making payments on something they’ll eventually own. But hey, it beats the other option of renting something we’ll never own… so there’s that!
Being a homeowner is supposed to be a great feeling. It’s supposed to make you feel like you’ve accomplished something in life; almost like you’ve reached the apex of the American Dream, whatever yours may be.
Sure, I feel like a big boy now. But I also feel like a butterfly who’s come out of his cocoon too soon, only to realize he wants to go back in, but can’t, because he was the one that made the decision to say, “F-U, cocoon, I’m starting my life as a butterfly and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
And now that this butterfly is out, he wants to go back into his warm, cozy cocoon. Actually, to be honest, I’m not even sure what analogy I’m trying to make here. What am I trying to say the cocoon represents in my life? I guess the cocoon is a representation of life in general; a life where my rented house was a cocoon where I didn’t have the responsibility of owning a home.
Now you might be asking yourself, “Why in hell did RJ and Mel buy a home if they’re freaking out about it already?”
That’s a legitimate question (or “legit” as the cool kids say). And I would argue that I’m probably the only one freaking out… no I’m not… I’m fine… look, I said it’s okay!
Based on a Google search, we were ready to buy a home. That’s not what’s freaking me out. I think the problem is the unknown. I think the overwhelming thing for me is that we’re now responsible for a giant slab of wood and concrete, and all of its contents.
We were spoiled as renters! If we had a problem, someone would come and fix it, no questions asked, no money down. Now if we have a problem, it’s our responsibility. I’ll have to make the difficult decisions in life like, “should I go to Chick-fil-a for dinner, or cut the grass on any particular evening?”
I now have to be a Jack of all trades.
Plumbing issue? I’ll fix it!
Patch some holes in drywall? I can do that too!
I think I get it now. I think this butterfly is ready to pick up a hammer, some nails and patch up my deck, even if that hammer is a tiny one for my tiny-little butterfly hands. This butterfly is ready to shed the comfort of his cocoon and fly away with other homeowners of the world.
Take these broken wings and learn to fly again and learn to live so free.
Mr. Mister had it right, even if that lyric doesn’t fit within this post.
The song is stuck in my head, and as I’m slapping on paint or mending a fence at my new house, you’ll hear me singing this song.
Until then, house butterflies, don’t leave your cocoon until you’re ready to fly. Let it be your cozy home for as long as you need, but know that with time, it will eventually kick you out if you don’t pay the rent.
And as Jimmy McMillan once said, “the rent is too damn high!”