I'm totally tortured right now.
I had trouble falling asleep last night, with thoughts of mortgages and houses and bamboo floors and buyers and renters all jumbling up in my mind, making me anxious and restless. And when I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was pull my laptop off the floor to see if our realtor had emailed back, or if the house was still on the market.
Not the most healthy way to kick off a gorgeous, sunny, low humidity Saturday that I should be spending on the water somewhere, instead of cleaning out the basement (which, who are we kidding, is SO not going to happen today).
Its so overwhelming. The steps themselves, no big deal: Do mortgage paperwork; then, put offer on house; then negotiate offer; then (this is where it starts getting me), purge possessions; then, clean existing houses; then, put house on market; then, take Prozac; then, live life on the edge keeping house museum perfect on the off chance someone wants to see it; then, have breakdown.
As I was making my tea, I started pulling crap out of drawers and throwing away. It made me feel like I was making progress towards the purge possessions item, and let's face it, that's a no regrets activity. Do I really need a drawer-full of doilies that my grandma gave me and I never used? Nope. Or the remote control cat-toy that's needed new batteries for five years? Nope. Or the refrigerator egg container that I never used because I couldn't figure out where the hell it was supposed to fit in the fridge? Nope, nope and nope.
So, I felt good and productive and useful. For like five minutes. Then I came out on my 3-year old beautiful deck into and sat on the steps and looked out over my backyard. And I got sad. Sad, sad, sad.
Unlike lots of people in this neighborhood, I never treated my house as a starter, short term house. I've got blood, sweat and tears in this place. My veggie garden that I've struggled with for years and years is finally fertile and productive. My trees are growing up; the trees that I transported in my Beetle and planted all by myself with no help from anyone. Its so peaceful here right now - birds singing, cicadas singing (do they sing?), sunshine... Yeah, I know the neighbors are douchebags, but they have been really extremely quiet recently, and its hard to want to move out when things are finally as they should be here.
And the thing is, I guess it doesn't matter. Everyone is sad when they leave a place, but everyone eventually leaves every place they are. I was sad when I left Washington State, and I hated it there! But I loved the little house I rented, and I loved the neighbors, and I loved the hills. And I love this place way more. Its 100% me. It oozes Susan from every crevice (sometimes literally). I've grown up in this house; learned to be an adult (kinda); learned to cook; learned to garden; learned to play guitar; learned to play banjo; learned to fix a water heater; and learned what's important, and what's not important.
But unless I want to be single for the rest of my life (which I don't - I think I sometimes get being single and being independent confused), I have to leave. And it could be next month, or it could be next year, but its going to be.
Change is hard for me. Even good change.
So, get ready. Lots more blog posts on their way...