Thursday, May 1, 2014

Quiet stress

You know what's great?

Knowing that you're going to move but not knowing when... or where.

Waiting for money.  Knowing that starting to look for a place when we don't even have the money is rather foolish.  When you consider that a home in our neighborhood (the area outside the mobile home park) will turn over in less than three weeks means that if we see something we like... we'll just be disappointed when we are unable to even make an offer on it.

I understand that getting an idea for the prices in our area and starting to discover and discuss where we should start looking is a good idea.  I take those recommendations to heart, but I have yet to jump onto any real estate sites and start looking.  I spend enough time in the world to know that there is usually something available in the sprawl of townhomes on the other side of one of the main thoroughfares.  I am aware that at any time I could go over there and find at least one of them for sale.  So I'm not too worried. 

But really.  I'm freaking out.

I don't want to move.
But I don't want to buy this house-because it's a fucking money pit and we'd be stuck here forever.

I'm already planning the move-out week.  I've got it scheduled and the only hiccup is that I'll need a car for the entire week... so I'll have to borrow or rent one.  Or buy another car.  That would be nice.  It's also a wonderful dream. The dream of having two cars... of not having to walk to the school at the hottest part of the day.  The dream of not developing raccoon face in just two days. 

In the meantime I'm staring at this house and packing it.  In my head.

There is so much to do... and doing it gradually is a wonderful plan but once I get started I know that I won't be able to stop and before you know it the sunroom will be full of boxes, there will be no knick-knacks in the house, all the artwork will be off the walls and half the bookcases will be empty.

Then we'll live with boxes around us for six months while we look for a place to live.
Unpacking all our stuff will be like Christmas morning.

I'm stressed out about a move that is going to happen sometime in the next four months.
Or maybe not even until after the new year.
Of course there's always the possibility that the owner of the house won't let us stay here when it is determined that we don't intend to buy the house.
So we may end up in some shitty little apartment for a period of time... some shitty little apartment where I won't bother to unpack much of anything outside of the kitchen.  We have Kindles.  We don't really need all those books.  We have Netflix.  We don't need all those DVD's. 

In an ideal world the money will clear and get here before the end of the month.  We'll be able to put our feelers out, educate ourselves and get out looking before we meet with our landlord.  By the time we meet with our landlord (mid June) we should be able to tell her that we're actively looking and anticipating being out of the house by September. 

In an ideal world.
In the meantime I'll quietly stress out about it and slowly get a few things done...  Although transplanting all my succulents into pots is stressing me out.  The heatwave may have killed one or two of them as it hit two days after a few things got potted.  Crossing my fingers and moving things into shadier areas with plans to drown them quite nicely when the sun goes down.

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