We spent hours looking at real estate yesterday.  This one was in a neighborhood we didn’t like.  This one was too small.  This one was too unattractive.  All the houses we saw had things we would need to spend money on to fix (or fix to our liking.)  In a desperation measure, we’re going to look in a higher price bracket and see if there’s anything perfect.  My brain is nigh on exploding.

Back when we bought the house we’re in, we were all ready to take on a fixer-upper, and we fell in love with this one – putting money into restoring it was a labor of love.  Taking a newer house and just adapting it and putting up with what we can afford to do – without being in love – isn’t going to work for us.  I guess we’re old enough now to be curmudgeonly about it.

And boy, I love my ellipses!

We’re heading off today to look for a new house.  I think in the end it may be a war between practicality and aesthetics.  The largest house is the ugliest.  The one I like best needs a new kitchen and another bathroom.  There are two others that are pretty, one has no basement, the other has no backyard (well, it does, but it’s completely filled with deck and pool.)

I dreamed, when I did sleep, of houses, of things representing disappointment and settling for less.  I am very excited and positive about the whole moving thing during waking hours, but there’s still, obviously, underlying anxiety.  I just can’t wait for it to be over and done with.

So we’ve signed a contract to sell the house.  We’re working on the creative financing that will allow us to move.  We’ve met the middle school teachers.  I’m really, really tired.  There are too many things going on that I wish were over, and too many I wish weren’t starting.  Now that the contract is signed, the reality is setting in, and the guilt. . .friends and neighbors and teachers (I volunteer a lot in the elementary school) saying how much they don’t want me to leave.  This triggers some strange thoguhts and emotions (“Why are you guys upset?  I’m not moving far, I’ll be back!” and “Seriously?  Miss >me<?  That’s weird.”)  I mean, I do fully expect to be visiting and being visited, and even though it’s not the same, it still doesn’t feel, yet, like I’m really moving away.  And while we’re moving for a lot of really good reasons, sometimes those reasons don’t mean as much when we’re trying to explain them to people who don’t want us to go.

It’s been a very, very long time since I last moved away from people who cared where I lived.  A really, really long time.  It feels strange.