About a month ago Marc and I decided to take a huge leap forward and make the full double-legged-jump forward and MOVE out of this townhouse and into a real honest to goodness single family HOME.
Que the music; Commence the dreaming; fenced in yards with frolicking children and shady trees and vegetable gardens complete with a golden retriever and patio with chaise lounges, an office for Marc, garage space for our cars and lawn mower, playrooms and family space, maybe even a fireplace and a new fancy washer and dryer and a kitchen where I can cook and people can sit and feel welcome.
But money doesn't grow on trees and even custom built dream homes can leak in a bad rain storm.
We talked to some agents. We got a POD. I loaded the POD. I cleaned and scrubbed and painted and scrapped at stubborn sticky stains until my knuckles were swollen and my fingers ached. Had the deck power-washed and stained, patched a small hole and had brand spanky new carpet put down.
Two weeks later, as I promised myself, there was this:
Holy Real Estate, I've only READ about people having to keep houses clean with children living in them, actually doing it takes super human strength. The challenge? It has not been easy. The first day, there was nothing. The second, .... nothing. And I began to think it might not be so hard to keep the house clean, and, wait ... people are SUPPOSED to be coming in, so, yeah.
Then we had an open house and I sat nervously at my parent's house for three hours thinking of the things that strangers could be thinking and touching as they meandered through my home, oogling my shower and standing way too close to my underwear drawer.
And then I drank some wine.
The endless touring continued for a few more days, which brings us to now ... people are interested.
But, this is only half of the situation, now, I have to find a house we like. And can afford. And the current owners have to agree to sell it to us.
So very many balls are in the air and if they all land in the same basket, I swear I will kiss each and every one of you. No? Not what you wanted? Fine, how about a cocktail, on me?
