Werewolves drinking margaritas.

It’s been a big week in house-building land. We have our closing date. We have tile. We have our first trees. We have a stove. We have marble around the fireplace. We have so very much. And to think—we get to have each other, too. We are all too lucky. And to add to that, baby-making is, like, the best time ever. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge, know what I mean? We have great happiness and a world coming together to provide a roof over our head for house number one in dream vision magic. Our closing date was set for September 11th. Oooh. Um. That’s awkward. We’ve asked that the date be changed to September 15th, which is a Monday and a full moon. I’m quite all right fighting off werewolves, but terrorists tend to scare me. Bring on the werewolves. We’ll let them howl around our kitchen door and be mindful that werewolves prefer a big dish of beef chow mein. We have a beautiful street. We’ve begun calling her Werewolf Lane.

Our first trees are one of the most exciting parts. The house begins to look like a home. We have something we’ve not yet identified and a palm tree. The palm tree was easy to identify due to the palm appearance while the other tree is just tree. We have tiny little rose bushes that the other houses do not have. We have the beginning of sprinklers as tubes sprout from the ground around the tiny front yard. Mr. Husband calls them black tubes of sustenance. We see monkey grass and imagine we’ll have a flying monkey farm reminiscent of Oz to keep the werewolves away. We imagine that everything is possible and happening. We are as alive as our tiny rose bushes and we’re reaching to the sun.

The tile in our master bath and upstairs bath (the bath that The Others will use when The Others visit) is amazing. That the builder takes time for tiny aesthetic details like laying the tile in a visually pleasing pattern sits completely right with us. There is time taken with this art. There is care. We see our little soap dish on the wall ready to drown bars of soap in its pool of water. We know that we’ll spend a lot of quality time in this bathroom. We thank the heavens that we will now have two point five bathrooms instead of one. No more danger for morning nostrils, though I am glad that Mr. Husband is regular. The bathrooms will be magnificent. There is a Kohler pedestal going in the powder room. Extra care is given to the bathrooms.

The kitchen got her stove and microwave on Tuesday. The dishwasher joined them later in the week. The three of them make such a happy couple. This is our first microwave. Though my dear sister-in-law gave me one in grad school, we left it behind when I moved in with Mr. Husband. Neither of us cared to cook with that kind of voodoo. Now we realize how important a microwave is for thawing different parts of dinner when a couple works too hard to remember to pull something out of the freezer in the morning. We understand now. We will not begrudge the thawing joy our new microwave can bring us. We’ll love her and treat her as one of the family. She can stay, and we will use her.

There is still primer on the walls. We cannot wait to see wall color and really know what we’ll be living with for years to come. The wood floors that will be dark as night will not come until much later. I imagine we’ll have faucets soon and lighting may come next week. Every week is Christmas on Werewolf Lane. Soon we’ll be living there among our new neighbors and fighting off werewolves together as we drink margaritas on our upper porch while rocking in our matching red rocking chairs. We’ll plan for the future on that upper porch as we watch the world below us and know that we did this together. Our kingdom. Our love. Our life. Werewolf Lane.