My realtor called this morning. She was just down our street a bit, showing someone a house. She wanted to bring that client through our home as well.
My house, for all that we’ve done a TON of work–and boy, howdy, did we work this past weekend!–is still a major work in progress. Our living room is painted a lovely neutral color, but has on the floor: Stereo equipment, 9 bags full of Braille books to donate, a LARGE bin full of things for Michigan, 3 science fair boards to keep one of our dogs from putting her nails on the window sills, and wiring all over the place.
I told our realtor all this, and she assured me her client was a former agent and could look past all that. I said give me 10 minutes and Laura, Bennett and I ran around like crazy people straightening. The house was still a mess, but it was a lot better after those 10 minutes. And the kitchen (except for the messy table) looked great!
They came. They walked around. They talked. Our realtor, Barb, was looking hopeful and said “selling might be easier than we hoped”.
As they were getting ready to leave, Barb said they want to come back on Thursday with the client’s husband, but I wasn’t to “do the Snoopy Dance”. Yeah, I got that.
I went into the office and cried instead. I’m too full of emotion and that’s my only outlet at this point. I would obviously love to sell quickly and easily and have it be over before it’s started. Really. That would save a lot of difficulty with having the house picture-perfect all the time with the kids, which I was a little worried about.
I’ve lived here for 17 years. And I’ve had many, many happy times. I’m ready for the next part of my life’s journey. Really.
But it’s saying good-bye and it’s change and it’s not living here anymore. Saying good-bye to the neighborhood and wonderful neighbors and our local library and even our stupid WalMart that I’m used to.
I HATE CHANGE. Even when I want it and have actively seeked it out, I HATE CHANGE.