Walking through a quiet, empty house and checking.
Checking cupboards, checking locks, checking walls. Then heading outside and checking the shed, the fenceline, even climbing behind bushes overgrown with bindweed.
The experience is exciting, but also unnerving. In my head runs a silent list of things that need fixing and in what order - the gaps in the fence will have to be done first, so that dogs (or children!) don't end up in other people's backyards, but then there's also...
Oh, I don't even know where to start. I don't want to.
There's a lot of work, but tomorrow our lawyer will transfer the money to the seller's bank account, and we will receive the keys in return. We will rip up carpets that smell of urine (a cat, I presume), deep-clean the remaining half-decent ones, move in furniture, wipe down kitchen surfaces.
My god, there's a lot of work, but she's ours. Will be, tomorrow.
Over time, the beauty will appear. Me and The Man have enough balls (well, him, mostly - but you know what I mean) to take up the project (or shall I call it a mission?) and I do trust that over time the beauty and the comfort will follow.