My House is Scary

My house intimidates me.

It could be the huge financial responsibility, the weight we will drag along for the next 30 (!) years. It could be amount of space we now have, and now have to clean. It could be knowing that this is it, all our eggs are in one basket, all we've got is each other and these walls. Or it could be the firsts.

Yes, the firsts. This week has been full of them: first night, first shower, first meal, etc etc. And there are many more to come. And I feel like each of these firsts sets the tone for the next stage in our lives. For example, I baked my first cake in my new oven on Thursday. It came out sub-par. What does this mean for the hundreds of cakes I will bake here over the course of time? Will they all be cursed? Or can I break the first curse?

Whats worse is, that, in the grand scheme of things, the cake is pretty irrelevant. What about our first fight? Our first party? Our first hanky-panky? What if they all suck? I can't be condemned to a life of bad fights, lame parties, and sub-par sex just because the first time in the house was terrible.

So, I've been going out of my way to make sure our firsts, however trivial, are good firsts. We had our first guests and had fun. We ate our first meal and it tasted delicious. We mowed the lawn for the first time and nobody lost any appendages. So far, so good.