Okay, so I’ve been back home for awhile and so has Java, but I needed to spread out my vacation postings so as not to overwhelm you with one big, long post.
Java survived her stay at the kennel, although she was pretty lethargic for a few days. She has snapped out of her doldrums now and is thrilled that the pool is open.
When I got back home, I hit the ground running and started a project to paint three bedrooms in the upstairs of the house. Since many of the people who have looked at the house love a lot of things about it but are disappointed that the upstairs hasn’t been “updated”, I thought at least freshening up the paint might help give a better impression. Improvements to the house do not equate getting more money for it, but I can handle painting more walls if it will help someone be interested in buying the place.
I’m not sure anything helps the problem of the burgundy carpeting.
The worst part of painting to me is the prep, and the prep on this project included removing a wallpaper border from my bedroom. A lot of the backing and adhesive stuck to the wall and had to be scraped and scrubbed away. Not fun.
I want the house to sell so I can finish this chapter of my life and start something else. I want to at least know what’s going to happen and get the fear, dread, and crying over with.
My search for replacement housing gets more and more discouraging. I’ve looked at everything from condos in the city near my job, to houses on acreage way too far from where I work, and everything in between, including a trailer home for $12,000 in the suburbs. I’m starting to think that if no home seems to suit me, I might as well go really cheap so I can afford to travel and be at home as little as possible. Perhaps I could trade in my horse trailer and truck for a truck that will accomodate a 5th wheel and get a trailer with living quarters. I don’t know. I’m just feeling nervous that I can’t see a solution that feels right and I don’t have any kind of plan in place.
I know some of my readers (and you know who you are) are smirking at my folly. Plans? Ha! I should know from experience that my plans are meaningless.
But that doesn’t aleviate the feeling that this move is a precursor to being relegated to a nursing home. I don’t want to live in a condo, apartment, townhouse, or on a lot in a suburb or the city. The reality is that my choices are limited by my age and my weak-little-falling apart female body, and that upsets me quite a bit!
But I keep repeating to myself that the right housing solution will come when I need it. I just need to trust in that. Worry isn’t going to help me find the answer any faster and it certainly won’t make me feel better. Just let it go and enjoy today because today is good. Trust that tomorrow will be too. Don’t I sound wise? I wish…
Here is my true inner dialogue:
You are not a victim. You may not like any of your choices for a future residence, but you are still not a victim.
Maybe there is another choice I haven’t thought of. One that doesn’t suck. Or maybe I can twist around something that sucks, you know, put a spin on it like all those politicians do, and turn it into a mirage of wonder and joy.
Okay, I’ll just live in an apartment. It will put an end to the frustration of pretending I like where I live, of trying to find a “home”. I can just have a place to eat, sleep, and store my things — a storage unit with a kitchen and bedroom. But there isn’t much storage space in an apartment…
Think of this as an adventure! Maybe just rent and move every 6 months to a new spot! Or do they make you sign a year’s lease? Dang it…
Okay, that’s it. I’m not thinking about this anymore.
Okay, that’s not working.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.