Before we moved, we had to find a new place to live. All rational people would assume the controlling, nit-picking, demanding spouse would be the one to scout out our new digs, but I think we all know where Zach and I sit on the rational scale. So, with the fear of God, the pressure of his wife, his mother-in-law, his sister-in-law, his friends and their wives, poor old Zachie set out to find us a new place to live.

And he did.

The first time I saw our new home was when we pulled up in our 26 ft Penske truck, with car and mother-in-law in tow. I was super nervous to see what it looked like, not only because if I hated it we still had to live there, but mostly because even if I hated it I couldn’t really complain.

Zach going and finding our place was just one of the many pieces in the “get Vida to relinquish control” and “get Vida to trust her husband” puzzle. I felt like it was the “strip Vida of all her decision-making abilities” and “give Vida an ulcer” puzzle, but no, I was informed I needed to let Zach take care of things and trust that he’d do a good job.

Whatev.

So here I am, all my worldly possession in hand as I take my first step into our new place and the first thing that hits me is the terrible stench of icky wet carpet. Nice. As I walk forward we have a little entryway and a nice size laundry room. There’s a kitchen with tons of cabinet space, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining area, and balcony.

Wet carpet aside, it’s a nice place and yes, he did an awesome job. Blah blah blah, trust, blah blah, letting go, blah.

It really was an odd feeling to not take care of as many things as I could. He did a ton of research before he went out there and I didn’t. I didn’t spend hours pouring over ads and I didn’t make a ton of calls. I didn’t get frustrated driving all over a string of unknown cities in search of a place my spouse wouldn’t hate. And it was weird, in a nice-ish sort of way.

If asked to list off my issues, I don’t think I’d say “unable to trust my husband.” I feel like I do trust him implicitly but seeing as I had to be forced to let him take care of something, maybe I need to reexamine my definition of trust. Maybe trust is the wrong word? I like to do things myself because I know I’ll do them the way I want them. Does that mean I don’t trust other people?

I’m not sure.

Everyone hates to be disappointed and if you can prevent that, then why not do what you can? I like the way I do things and I like the way they turn out when I do them. Plus, when I do them and something goes wrong, I can only blame myself. Other people aren’t going to do things the way I like them (and we all know any way other than my own would never work) right?

To prove my point here is a list of things unique to my new condo, found and selected by my husband:

• Awesome square footage, even in tiny S.B.
• Great living/dining room layout.
• Quiet complex (minus the rowdy and seemingly transient Mexican population across the street).
• Gorgeous view of the mountains and palm trees from the balcony.
• Vibrant flowers surround our complex and general neighborhood.
• Bike trial starting at our garage.
• Two blocks over and three blocks down from the ocean….the freaking ocean.