Our closing was moved from mid-July to 11 days from today. This was actually something we wanted, given the “what if he watches the news/listens to the radio/talks to a naysayer and thinks, ‘Why am I buying NOW when real estate is going to continue its downward slide into the shitter? I’m going to back out of this deal!'” thoughts that spring up every 15 minutes or so during every hour of the 17 or so hours per day I’m awake.
Not that we’ve started packing. We found a rental house a few days ago, though–the first one we visited, in fact. Something about learning of the new closing date that morning pushed us into the coveted-by-salespersons “motivated” category.
This weekend we prepared and ate BBQ ribs with our favorite neighbors. It was like the “last supper,” but without the wine and impending betrayal + crucifixion.
Next Saturday night, I’m throwing my 8th (and last) birthday party in this ‘hood. It likely won’t rival my 30th birthday, but it’s my neighbor’s 40th (she and I have been having joint birthday parties for the past 6 years) and is doubling as my family’s “moving away party,” so I’m optimistic that more than adequate merriment will abound.
Yesterday afternoon, I said aloud, “I guess I won’t be able to sit on the porch with my laptop
screwing around on Twitter working while the children and dog run around in everyone else’s yard in two weeks!” At least, not until I do a local sex offender search and a “test the waters” trick-or-treating dressed in drag.
But change is necessary and good. And in this category? Has been a very long time coming.