If It Ain't Broke, It Probably Ain't Mine

Maybe it's because I grew up in a family without a lot of money and, it naturally follows, very few really new (not just new-to-me) things. Maybe it's just me, and I'm weird. I'm not sure. But any time we make a big purchase on something brand new or very expensive, I become very uncomfortable. I get this feeling that, while it's nice to enjoy this cool new thing, it's really just a matter of time before someone realizes they've made a mistake, and whatever that thing is, it is far too nice for us. I never feel like something is truly ours until it malfunctions or breaks. I don't know why, but I do. Some examples: 

--Remember back at the beginning of the recession, when everyone got a check mailed to them with a message from the president saying, "Go blow this money on something to stimulate the economy?" (Not a direct quote, but you get the sentiment.) We bought a new tv. We had been talking about upgrading to a flat screen for awhile, and we decided we might as well do it then. We picked out the nicest one in our budget, and were super excited. Better picture! Built in dvd player! Bigger screen! Takes up less space! But while we enjoyed it, I had that awful nagging, "it doesn't really feel like ours" feeling. Fast forward a couple of months, and the built-in dvd player quit working. At that point I realized, "Hey, this is really ours. Also, crap... now we have to get a dvd player, too."

-- In 2007, we bought our truck. Being a 2004 model, it was the newest car we'd ever owned together. But it never really felt like mine until the night, angry after an argument with Hubby, I left to go grocery shopping without paying much attention to my surroundings. The tiniest corner of my front bumper caught the tiniest edge of the back bumper of Hubby's work truck. Since mine was plastic and his was metal, you can guess which bumper won that fight. That's when it began to feel like that truck belonged to me. Two broken window mechanisms and two windshield cracks later, there is no doubt in my mind that that is my truck.

-- When I bought this computer last August, I felt the same way. No way was this brand-new (a first to me, as all my previous computers had been hand-me-downs), state-of-the-art computer mine! Sure, I picked it out. Sure, I wrote the check for it, and sure, several weeks later, the rebate check came, addressed to me. But I couldn't shake the feeling that any day, someone was going to call and say, "Hey, about that computer you bought? Yeah, we're gonna need that back. Sorry." Until the day I baptized the keyboard in sweet tea. That was the day I knew the computer was ours.

So, we've just moved into a new house. And while it's not brand new (it was built 5 years ago), it's definitely a major purchase, and infinite heaps better than the our old trailer. And after all the work, heartbreak, and stress that went into getting here, it's no small wonder that when we moved in, I was still anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop. But on our third day here, something happened. Ben tried to come inside through the front door, and the doorknob fell off. Just completely fell apart-- half of it was on the floor in here and the other half was on the front step! At that moment, I realized that this is our house. Our house. We live here, and we own it, and it is our house for us to make into our home. 

Every once in awhile, that little feeling creeps up on me again, and I worry that the bank will call and tell us it was all just a big mistake, or someone's idea of a practical joke, and that we shouldn't be living here after all. When it does, I go look in the box where we stuck the broken doorknob and I think, "Nope. It's ours." And maybe that's a pessimistic, glass-half-empty way to look at it. But, in a strange way, it comforts me.