So I did it.  Instead of staying home like a responsible pregnant lady, I drove up to New Hampshire yesterday to revisit the Perfect House during its inspection.  The drive up was no problem.  Once we were there, we were startled – but happy – to realize that the owner was at home.  She is a doll.  So sweet, so funny, so much wanting to like us. I think she did – (I hope she did, because I really liked her!)  The inspection took longer than any of us imagined, though – 3 hours! -and I was getting pretty tired by the time we were done.  And then there was the drive home.

Which sucked.

But first, the house stuff.  We didn’t find anything that made us NOT want to buy the house.  A few alarms were raised – a bathroom whose electric didn’t seem to be working, a wonky stove, some serious water damage along a few exterior door sills.  A resident family of squirrels that have gnawed into the attic of the garage and cannot be budged, no matter how many get ‘humane trapped’.  But we think all these ‘problems’ are workable ones, and we know what it is to buy a 150-year-old house – they’re not going to be perfect, even when they’re Perfect.

And so much of the house is even more perfect than I’d remembered.  The kitchen is bigger, and has 4 windows – two on each side, so the breezes are divine.  The living room where we’re probably going to put the DVD player isn’t all that small, the way I’d remembered it.  The sunroom is a thing of glory.  And after measuring the dimensions of her new digs, the seller is willing to throw in a good bit of the furniture/appliances after all.  Which is nice, since we don’t actually have enough furniture to furnish a house this size.

We weren’t able to get a radon reading, because she was trying to be hospitable and had opened every door in the place – door to attics, doors to basements, etc., and apparently the inspector wants “closed in for at least 12 hours” readings for the air-quality radon measurements.  The house is built on granite, so we’re expecting higher readings which is ok.  We won’t be living in the basement at all, and we’ll set up a mitigation system if necessary.  The radon-in-the-well-water reading should be back in a couple of days, and I’m hoping it’s within standard levels, because it would suck to have to try to mitigate THAT.

So she’s going to get an electrician in to deal with the outlet & the stove, and we’re going to send in the rest of our earnest money on Monday, and it’s all going swimmingly and we spent much time on the drive home daydreaming about what we’re going to put where, and which bedroom will belong to Thor, and where the Boy’s grandchildren will sleep when they (even though they don’t yet exist!) come over for holidays.

And then the cramping began.  Like the world’s worst gas pains, or menstrual cramps X 1000.  No real rhyme or reason to them, save that everything hurt, and then it didn’t.  And then it hurt and then it didn’t.  And even though I leaned my seat back, it didn’t really help, Not enough, anyway.

So when we finally got home, I collapsed in a heap on my bed and fell asleep mid-page of a book – something I never do – at about 9pm.  The Boy woke me up at 9am to ask if he could bring me a bagel (and to see if I was all right.  He apparently tried to rouse me a couple of times in the night and I just moaned & rolled away from him.)  And this morning I am fine.  A bit sore around my belly, but nothing dire.  No cramps.  No contractions.  No baby born unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

Which are all good things.

But I don’t think I’ll be pushing it that much again until the baby’s here.  I don’t think I’ll be making the mistake of rationalizing “Well, if all I’m doing is sitting in a car, surely that’s not so different than sitting at home.”

Hah.

Okay, Universe.  I get the message.  I’ll stay put and rest.  I promise.

And maybe pack my hospital bag, too, which would make the Boy very happy.

Pictures of the Perfect house later, if I can summon the energy to post them…