A house that's now a home

Since I just wrote about school, I thought I'd even it out with a note about something else that takes up a lot of my time - my house.
I bought a 2-story, 1500 sq. foot single-occupancy house in Lansing in spring of 2006. I was 23 years old and in the first year of my graduate program. At the time, I was halfway through a year-long apartment lease, but I was so pumped about the house that I closed as soon as I could and moved in the next day. I didn't even clean or paint before I got my stuff inside my new walls, though I didn't have much stuff back then. The night I moved in, I hosted an "Alcohol and No Furniture" party - a few friends came over, had a few beers, and admired the bookshelf that was the only thing in my living room.
Thanks to the help of some friends, I got some used furniture soon enough, but between paying the mortgage and the remaining 6 months of rent on my old apartment, I might have been better off keeping the spartan look for awhile longer. My enthusiasm for home ownership spilled over into buying things I thought a home owner should have, like a gas grill and a futon for the front porch. My measly graduate stipend barely paid for food and bills, and although I had a housemate as of that summer, my spending habits way outpaced my income. Not only that, but I had no idea that a house required regular maintenance at various points in the year. Change filters? Clean gutters? Wait - I needed a ladder?
I left that May for a month as a teaching assistant at an archaeological field school in the Czech Republic, financed those travel costs myself, and returned in June optimistically thinking I could pick up an easy part-time job for the rest of the summer. Instead I ended up borrowing thousands of dollars just to make rent until my financial aid kicked in come September.
Thinking I was now OK, I returned to relative profligacy, only to have my housemate move out in December. I think my failure to rake any of the massive piles of leaves was one factor (I thought they would simply disintegrate under the coming snow. I was SO surprised the next spring). I was on my own for a few miserable months until the Craigslist ad I'd put out was answered early the next spring; I then spent another miserable month wishing I'd screened my potential renters better and hadn't offered a fixed monthly payment.
Things got hugely better when the asocial engineer who constantly complained moved out, and the young aspiring Buddhist monk moved in. He'd been looking for a quiet, cheap place to live; he was working as a driver for an EMT service in Lansing but intended to save money for a move to Thailand where he'd train as a monk. After he moved in, he'd leave each weekend for his local monastery, and on weekdays, I'd hardly notice his nonintrusive presence.
It's been well over two years since he moved in, and he's stayed. I've added another housemate along the way, and it's with cautious optimism that I say ours is a happy little household. At least, they're happy enough to keep paying me rent each month. I'm much better about raking the leaves now, though I am still working on snow shoveling.
I can say with total honesty that 3+ of years of home ownership has done more to make me an adult than anything else in my life. It's given me a strong sense of place and belonging as well. I like to think I am better off because of it, and that my life will continue to improve as I continue to manage my property better. I even have enough furniture for real dinner parties. Next spring there may even be a garden.