Our house in Galloway is sold.
After buying it 11.5 years ago, living in it for four years, failing to sell it just as the economy was crashing, renting it out for five years and then putting it on the market six months ago, we finally closed with the home's new buyers yesterday.
There's very little that's bittersweet about this -- it's mostly just sweet. (Paul and I had a celebratory dinner last night while his mom watched Edith.) It's not that we hated the house. We're just so far removed from it. We last lived there just before we moved to New York in October 2007.
It was a good starter home, equal distance between where we worked at the time. Paul was on the northeast side of Columbus, and I was in Springfield. My commute was about 40 minutes. The location wasn't ideal (Galloway isn't exactly where the cool kids hang out), but it was safe and close to the interstate.
The headaches came later, finding and dealing with rental agents and tenants. But it's behind us, and we now have a house in a Columbus neighborhood we love. One house.
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