Last Friday I was handed a small envelope with my name written on it. Inside the envelope was the key to my new home in Fountain Hills.

While I’ve been renting here for 11 years, there was something special about this new key. It meant that I finally have a place that I can truly call my own.

Sure, that’s a little terrifying in some ways, but I think all of those extra responsibilities and the occasional weekend project will be good for me. The place is in great shape, but I’m already starting to discover things here and there that will need a little work in the coming months.

As a long-time renter, finally buying a home in this community is already giving me a new sense of freedom, too. If I don’t like something in my new home, I can change it myself. While renting, I had to call the property manager and ask for official permission hang up curtains. Heck, I could hang curtains on every wall in my house now, if the mood catches me.

If nothing else, maybe the ins and outs of home ownership will give me some fun stories to share in the coming years. Hopefully not too “fun,” though. I’d prefer that everything just work the way it’s supposed to and leave me to enjoy the place for a while, rather than need to dive into any major projects.

Speaking of major projects, the first one came this past weekend.

The last time I moved, it was from Northern Arizona University to Fountain Hills. I mentioned a few weeks back that I barely had a desk and a TV to my name through the college years, so that last move wasn’t too taxing.

Things have certainly changed. At this point, I’m about ready to just throw everything I own in a dumpster and swear off material possessions.

I thought I’d be able to take care of just about everything myself; with lots of help from Jenn, of course. We gave the new place a top to bottom cleaning Friday and Saturday, but only managed to move one load of boxes in all of that time.

Jenn suggested we ask friends and family for help, but I remained stubborn.

Thankfully, Jenn is exceedingly wise in these types of matters, by which I mean she completely ignored my bone-headed insistence that we didn’t need assistance.

Sunday morning, my body still feeling weak from two days of cleaning, packing and moving like mad, I went to Jenn to give her the rundown of what I thought we could accomplish that day.

“Okay,” she said. “Oh, and I’ve got three people coming over to help.”

And thank goodness she did. It was a whirlwind of a day but, with five of us pulling together, we got the lion’s share of the work taken care of.

The move isn’t complete just yet, and of course I’ll still need to unbox everything when I finally get settled in, but at least I had someone ready and willing to basically protect me from myself.

Moral of the story: It’s okay to ask for help sometimes, especially when you really, really need it.