The Web House

I lived pretty much in the same place for the majority of my life. I started out with my mom and my grandparents in a little pink and white house in Burlington, Washington. When I was four, my Mom got married and we moved onto her new husband's farm on the outskirts of civilization somewhere between Lyman and Hamilton, Washington. I stayed there until about two months after I turned 18. Then, I did what so many do. I set out to find a place of my own and learn how to be grown up in the respect of being self sufficient for all my vital needs.

It was a very windy and bumpy road that got me to my first apartment. I lived in four different houses before I finally moved into my own apartment with my friend. I started out in my Ganny and Papa's (my father's parents) house in Bellingham. A few months later, I moved to Oak Harbor to live my grandparents (my mother's parents). A few months after that, I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle that also lived in Oak Harbor, and not much longer after that, I moved in my Dad's house in Blaine, Washington.

From this, I discovered one very important thing. You never really become completely independent when you live with relatives. They have expectations of you, and even though you might be paying rent to live there, and perhaps you occasionally buy your own groceries, it is far from being on your own. They want to know where you're going, how long you're going to be, and they want you to do certain things certain ways. Not to mention how they will complain to others in the family about the little things about you that bother them that they never noticed before you actually lived with them. No matter what, they will all treat you like a child because that is what they have always known you as. Or such was the case for me, anyway. I think it's great to live in a place where people are concerned about your well-being and love you.... but there came a time for me where this became too much and I knew I needed to be on my own even though the cost of living for me would more than double.

I moved into my first official apartment in the first week of July, 2007. My friend, Marcus, and myself chose this apartment carefully. We picked an area we liked and found an apartment complex that was affordable and looked newer, clean, and cozy. And so began the horrible process of learning that student housing apartments are made with very cheap materials and the property management companies that patrol them will suck you dry in every area that they possibly can.

I have many awesome memories from that apartment, and I really did like the layout of the place. However, I will avoid ever living in an apartment complex if I can help it.

I spent a good two months searching for a house that was privately owned and managed, so I could come back from Sweden to a place I could relax and enjoy inhabiting.

I ended up finding a four bedroom, two story house a little more than a mile away from my first apartment. The rent was affordable and I had two roommates lined up.

On the ride home from the airport when I got back from Sweden, I was really excited to see my new house. I don't know about anyone else, but when you do a walk-through when you're thinking about renting a place, you don't really get a thorough look at everything. It is just too much to intake all at once. So when move-in day finally comes, it's so exciting because you don't really know that much about your new home. The most I remembered about my house was the layout of the rooms and the outside because we did many drive-bys when deciding if we wanted to live there.

My two roommates had been living there for about three weeks before I came to join them. When the car pulled into the driveway sometime past midnight the first night I was to spend in my new house (HOUSE!!!!! not apartment!!), I could barely contain my excitement as I scrambled up the front steps and eagerly reached out for the front door. I stopped before my hand touched the doorknob and drew back in disgust. Two very fat, very horrifying spiders dangled on the door. Several webs decorated the porch I was standing on, and each one had an unwelcome occupant.

It was rather fortunate that I was so utterly exhausted from the insane trip I just returned from, because I had so little energy to dedicate to freaking out about the spiders infesting the outside of my home.

That night, I slept on a pad in the living room and spent the entire next day thoroughly inspecting and piecing together my new home.

The house was obviously made in the '70's. It must have been prime in it's day. It's been beat up quite a bit since then, and because it's so tattered, it's affordable! Most of the carpet is vomit colored. Some of the carpet was replaced with a cream colored carpet that has thousands of stains on it from hundreds of parties that have taken place there over the years. I absolutely love it. Pre-damaged means that I cannot possibly do too much to make it worse. I have taken this into consideration as I live with two party-animal boys. Fine, I can get pretty reckless and wild as well. But since I am the one that ends up cleaning, I am much more careful with what messes I make and where I make them. There is at least one wooden wall in every room in the house. There is a functional fireplace in the upstairs living room, and I am excited to hang our stockings there when it comes time to decorate for Christmas. The appliances look like they were updated sometime in the '90's, and they all function properly (so far, anyway...). The downstairs area is perfect for entertaining. A pool table sits in the middle of the room, a bar in one of the corners, and a sauna in the hallway just outside the den.

The outside of this place is brilliant. Padden Creek runs right through my backyard, and we have a hammock overlooking it and a bridge crossing it. Not to mention the awesome two-layer deck, and the padio outside the downstairs.

Over all, I am very pleased with this new home. All but the spider situation.

I discovered that the spider population was even worse that I thought. Spiders were everywhere in the house and the back porch. And these are not just any spiders. They are HUGE. Big, fat, well-fed garden spiders. Anyone who knows me well knows that I cannot stand spiders. When I see one, every hair on my body strains to stick straight up.

How do I deal with it? Well, I decided I would go with the Batman approach. Facing your worst fear and letting it turn you into a superhero. So I am now a superhero. A superhero with a very capable broom. A capable broom of death to spiders.

My roommates, Josh and Paul, and myself, decided that "The Web House" was a very fitting name for our new home.