He has cometh.

And by "he," I mean "the tax bill."

It has come. We are now officially homeowning, property tax-paying citizens of Oshkosh. Well, we will be. Right now we're just homeowning people with a tax bill on the kitchen counter.

I think this is the part where I'm supposed to say a bunch of heartfelt one-liners about contributing to my community and how good it feels to give back; how when I sign away that check I'll feel like a better, more mature person.

But in reality, I'm kind of wondering what lunatic put Christmas and the tax bill season so close together. That's not even logical. How are we supposed to feel good about putting gifts on our credit cards if all we can think about is "escrow" and why it's our friend?

I mean, really.

Ah well. Better than paying rent for an apartment with a crazy fire alarm, moldy window sills and loud neighbors. I'll keep telling myself that the day I pay the bill: "No place like home. No place like home."