Saturday, March 31, 2007

I had hoped by now that I could show you a picture of the new and improved dream house...

Not yet.

My house sale is moving right along...I am spending lots of money fixing this house up to be perfect for its new family. So, where is my dream house?

I actually may have found it. I am almost afraid to think about it. It meets almost all of my criteria; its big enough, great location, great yard, great house. But its Expensive. Right at the top of my budget. It does has everything, or at least has the potential to have everything I need...I could eventually replace things and make it "mine"(I have discovered that I am a surface snob--floors, counter tops--all very important to me. Who'd have thought?).

Still, it is a huge, huge step for me. Talking to accountants, mortgage brokers, bankers...all stuff I have never had to do and never wanted to do. Why is it that no matter what we are capable of we still, on some level, want someone else to take care of us? Someone else to "do the dirty work"--the bargaining, the wheeling, the dealing, the tough decision making.

I am perfectly capable of making important--life altering--decisions. I do it all the time. For other people. Not for me. What is the big deal about making decisions that I will have to live with? Am I a total wimp?

I keep hoping that this is all going to feel right--feel good--feel perfect. That I will be "led" to the perfect house, the right mortgage, the ideal yard... That my heart will quit breaking. And I think that all this should happen on my timetable (right now). Is it possible--even remotely--that this porcess is supposed to be a bit uncomfortable? a bit unsettling? a bit out of my control?

Is my next home going to be the psych ward?

Thursday, March 22, 2007


The past 2 weeks have been such an emotional roller coaster. I am exhausted, mentally, physically, spiritually. Heartfelt thanks to all of you who sent encouraging words and comments--I didn't even have the energy to respond but they were all so appreciated.

My birthday was wonderful--I think maybe the best yet. Celebrated with friends X3--had 3 wonderful dinners (and a trip to the ATL with liv, complete with good food, good wine, and a trip to "whole foods"). I am tremendously blessed.

My house has a contract on it--yes, barring complications, it sold technically before it was even on the market 12 hours. The contract negotiations were a pain, but if the pool "passes inspection" it will be sold.

And I am saying: "MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE???"

You may remember that it was only a short while ago that I made this decision I have felt so strong, so sure of myself. New paint, new carpet, repairs, purging of years of accumulated trash, storage of years of accumulated treasure, unending work to get my house "ready to show" and boom. It's not my house anymore.

I guess this would be easier if we had somewhere else to go. I have looked at several houses; and decided to buy one of them at least 5 times, but the simple fact is that I love this house. I love the space--the porch that I designed, the pool that has been my refuge and the center of the kids summers. And there is no other house that I have seen that compares. Of course, I am looking at smaller houses. Smaller mortgages. Less yard. Smaller utility bills. That has to count for something, right?

The main contender in the search for a new dream house is lovely--it is in a golf/tennis/pool community (no pool maintenance, but no privacy either). The problems include a laundry room that I abhor, and a kitchen that is smaller than my present bathroom. Other than that, it is great. Lots of space for the kids to entertain, a biggish yard, with woods behind for privacy, brick (low maintenance). In fact, when I first saw it I thought--Wow. The first house I look at and its perfect. But, when I go into my kitchen and realize that I will have to get rid of 3/4 of the stuff in it I just panic. I love my kitchen. Love everything about it. And I can't just pick it up and move it. I also love my furniture. Most of the stuff I didn't want went with the ex. I'm rather fond of what's left. But do I want to move into a house and already be cramped?


The kids have been excited and supportive--they like the above mentioned house. But tonight, my little Spence looked around and said, "I'm really going to miss this place", and one little tear almost fell. My heart broke.

He'll enjoy the new house, where ever it is, I am sure. And so will I. But for now, he and I are both feeling the first little twinges of homesickness. And yes, even a little bit of fear. I just hope it is short lived.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Happy Birthday to me!

House is officially listed--I am officially exhausted, and very excited. Details later! Wish us luck!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Home inspector is here snooping about, putting little orange sticky dots (I call them hot dots) on things that are "not right". I am a nervous wreck. It is one thing to know that you live in a 25 year old house that obviously isn't perfect. It is another thing entirely to pay someone to go over said house with a fine tooth comb and point out all of its imperfections.

I keep reminding myself, "Its a house. Do not take any of this personally." Still, it feels threatening somehow--as if this nice little bespeckled man held the key to my future on his little clipboard, and was determined to keep it from me.

I wish I were a drinking woman.

For now I am going to make use of this day I took off of work to continue cleaning. The third floor (used as an attic for years) is approaching presentable. My precious sons have cleaned out their closets and their rooms as best they can. My daughter is trying, but she is as busy as I am and a thousand times more ADD, not to mention the world's biggest procrastinator, so there is still much to be done.

My realtor dropped by to check my progress. She is so ready to list this house. Evidently, she has been getting calls and inquiries about it already (small town, gotta love it!) I am feeling exposed and raw, and a bit like I may drown. I wouldn't be surprised to look in the mirror and see one of those damn orange hot dots on my forehead.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Last night, the tornado sirens were wailing....

It used to terrify me every time, but I guess I have just become ambivilent to them for the most part. They blow a lot here. The weather was awful yesterday--in the 70's and thundering and raining. It was one of those sticky, still nights. I don't mind it so much when it blows--the trees whipping and leaves and branches blowing seem right somehow--when it is heavy and oppressive and nothing is moving--not a leaf trembling--it gives me the weebies. Last night was one of the still nights. So, I did what any normal person would do--went to Cracker Barrel for chicken and dumplins. It was really neat to be one of the only cars on the road.

I never watch TV--not even the weather channel. Just don't have time, and don't think about it when I do. My mother, however, is a total weather channel junkie. She used to call me and say things like "Is it raining there?", then argue with me when I said that it wasn't--"it is too--you are all lit up green on the doppler radar". I didn't hear from her last night, so I figured it must be just a passing thing here.

Boy was I wrong. I was shocked today by the destruction in Alabama. She is fine; her town was not affected, but so many others were. I can't even imagine the horror of those parents who didn't even know where their kids were. Were they buried in thr rubble that used to be their school? Were they life flighted out to who knows where? How would they even begin to figure it out?

I think the sirens may terrify me again.