Last updated: June 07. 2013 4:16PM - 1967 Views

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Oh hey, happy anniversary. Did you even remember? Yep. I’m writing this “card” to you on the exact day seven years ago that you and I committed to each other. Feels like yesterday.

So hard to believe seven years have passed since the day you put the equivalent of a pine cone on my chair at our first dinner. You forgot, right? I know we’re getting along OK now — our personality differences aside — but you sure didn’t make it easy for me, did you? No, like a mischievous young Von Trapp you saw your new governess and tried to chase her away. Might I remind you your first “pine cone” was water? Yeah, you sent some overflowing from the toilet tank the first time someone flushed, and then I went downstairs to find more and different water issuing from a pipe. Remember that? I grabbed the f irst bucket I saw, then went upstairs and cried. On the kitchen floor. Asked myself what the heck I’d done and considered going back whence I came. (If I could have, which I couldn’t, having already signed on so many dotted lines.)

But bet you didn’t know something, house. Maria Von Trapp is kind of my idol. Don’t care how geeky that sounds. You might have seen me watch “The Sound of Music” 70 times seven times now? If I’ve learned one thing from that hill-climbing, guitar-playing, rags-wearing songstress, it has to be tenacity. When the going gets tough, the tough don’t run, you know. (OK, so maybe Maria did slink away once, but it was more a matter of honor; she was studying to become a nun, and fell hopelessly in love, and the Captain was betrothed.) She didn’t run because someone put frogs in her bed or whatever else those seven children did to her, and, anyway, she came back. And eventually her story became, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest ever told.

So guess what, house? You know what they say about seven years, don’t you? That’s the “itch” number, the point at which someone in a pairing tends to get bored and think about moving on. At this point, a thorough review might be in order: What have you done for me, or to me, lately?

Done. Result? Seems you’re going to have to try harder to scare me.

You still like to spray water randomly, sure, but you’ve held up well through two actual floods. And you might have played with fire (or I might have) once or twice, but we’re both still here, aren’t we? And the occasional bat or weird bug you like to toss out in the middle of the night or the heat of summer? Yeah, not cool, but not enough, not your A game.

I can go on and on about your antics, but why? Not when I’m staying. You heard me, house. I think I love you, as the lyrics go, and I suspect you love me, too, despite your sometimes-funny way of showing it.

So I’m digging in. After all, homeownership is the same everywhere you go. A real barrel of laughs (floating on top of the river of tears). To quote another favorite play/movie of mine, “I’ve grown accustomed to (your) face.” Accustomed to the tune you whistle night and noon … Your smiles, your frowns, your ups, your downs are second nature to me now …

Just call me Maria Henry Higgins Eliza Doolittle Von Trapp. Make me your “Fair Lady” for life and hear me sing “I Have Confidence” — off-key but with as much conviction as fair Maria: I have confidence you’ll put me to the test (again), but I still believe. I’m in this thing come what may.

Happy sevens, house. Now shut up and remarry me.

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