That Stung

 I resigned from the Grievance Committee yesterday. 

House Hunting

Sometime next week, I'm flying to Texarkana to look for a home. This is a true labor of love at this point because there is very little inventory available in December anyway. But on top of that, living in a city of 60,000 in the budget I want to spend means there is about three houses to chose from. 

Additionally, though I am trying, I'm not a fan of my agent. The agent was a gift and a close personal friend of the president of Marty's new company. She also is the broker for one of the two real estate companies in town. This agent is sweet and all Southern Hostess but she can't stop talking for three seconds to let me get a word in edgewise. Plus she isn't much of a listener. 

I told her my budget. She tells me my budget only allows for homes that need updating. "What is updating in your book?" I asked her. "Not updated homes don't have granite counters," was her reply. That's perfect because I am one of the only people I know who doesn't like granite. I said so, but she didn't hear. She was busy leading me to homes $150,000 more than my budget. 

She also was shoving 3,000 square foot homes in front of me. "I'd like something between 1,600 and 2,000 square feet." 

"Really? That's pretty small." Says who? That "small" home doesn't have to have the maintenance price tag of a home 1,000 square feet bigger. I'm not cooling, heating or paying taxes or insurance on a house that will probably be too big to fit our needs. 

Finally, she though she understood my thoughts and directed me to a dump she thought I could get it for $15,000 less than advertised. Now, truly, the price isn't my issue. I can qualify for whatever I want to qualify for. My budget is set by Marty and me. 

In the case of this dump, she was worried I wouldn't like the workshop in the back. That might make the house, "too big." As it turns out, I like to refinish furniture (something I'd tell her if she'd SHUT UP for three seconds). But that house was truly a dump. There was no mistaking this place as anything other than a redneck zone on a good day and a ghetto on a bad day. She thought it would be "great" for me because it wasn't 3,000 square feet and didn't have granite counters. 

In an effort to save my sanity, my dear friend Bliz is meeting me in Texarkana to come house hunting with me. She will be my voice of reason. And perhaps she may be my alibi if all does not go well.   

FAQ

 In the last 11 days, I have been asked many of the same questions. It is interesting to me to see what people are curious about. Nobody has outright asked me how I feel about this (I'm ok). Most of my answers are standard. My last answer fluctuates, but the long version is below. 

Q: Texarkana, where's that? 

A: On the Texas and Arkansas state line. Its is half way between Dallas and Little Rock.

 

Q: Why Texarkana? 

A: That's where Marty got a job. 

Q: Have you been to Texarkana before? 

A: Yes, but not as a tourist. 

Q: Are the kids (who are young adults) coming? 

A: For now. One has announced plans of flying the nest sooner than I expected. 

Q: How did the kids take the news?

A: One was thrilled. One is struggling a bit more but has also expressed excitement at a new adventure. The struggling one has said there is a move to Dallas in that one's near future. 

Q: Will you sell real estate over there? 

A: I don't know. 

Q: What will you do over there? (generally referring to selling real estate or other forms of employment). 

A: I don't know. I will figure it out later. 

Q: What about your father? 

A: I plan to come back regularly to see my dad and help out my brother. 

Q: What is the hardest part of leaving?

A: I can honestly say there is no single "hardest part." Leaving my roots, the people I love, guiding my family through them leaving their roots and people they love tend to be my rotating answers. 

Q: Do you have a place to live? 

A: No.

Q: What is your biggest fear right now? 

A: Being homeless when we arrive in late December. In a close second place for biggest fear, Marty or the kids just outright rejecting this move. 

Q: Do you have a lot to do? 

A: YES!!!!! 

Q: What about your real estate brokerage here?

A: I am closing it on or around November 30, provided my last home in escrow closes on the 29th. 

Q: Are you excited? 

A: I am sure I will be. Right now there's a lot of anxiety and overwhelm. Once that is settled, I will focus on this new adventure. Texarkana wasn't a place I would have purposely picked so there is a lot of unknowns. But as a friend once said, I'm a, "bloom where you're planted," kind of person. I can see me being ok. Besides, if it doesn't work out, we go on to another adventure. There's some freedom in knowing that. 

Progress

Yesterday Marty and I cleaned out the garage in anticipation of eventually using that area to stage whatever it is we've packed. We took two loads to Goodwill. We filled up our trash can and the neighbor's can as well. I put our wooden filing cabinet up on on social media, just in case someone wants it. And then I packed two boxes. 

Maybe today I will pack two more. 

I have lists for everything. 

Get a mobile vet to our home to evaluate Finn and prescribe kitty-cocktails so that we can effectively move him. (December 10)

Open house for family and friends  (December 12). Come on over--it is probably going to be word-of-mouth invite at this time. Forgive me. 

Finish Luna's obedience training (November 22)

Make pies, deviled eggs and banana bread for Thanksgiving (November 24) 

Finish my last real estate sale and close my brokerage (November 30). 

Find a house in Texarkana to move into right before Christmas that will have electricity and water and dare-I-say-it: Internet. 

Sell and donate what won't fit into the mythical house in Texarkana. 

Figure out how our belongings are going to get to Texarkana. 

Sort through 18 years of household treasures, junk and trash that I don't necessarily want to keep. 

And the list goes on. 

But please, show up on December 12. 

It's a Nope

Looking at homes this morning. I found a super-cute one in my price range that covered all the bases: it had bedrooms, bathrooms, a fenced yard for Luna, off the main road and a commute that wouldn't set Marty up for failure. It even had a bit of land for Buckaroo to raise chickens and me to have a garden. 

When I went to Google Maps though, I found a different story. 

Bonus Dad and the Boxes

Bonus Mom collected boxes. That's actually an understatement. Bonus Mom had a 10x10 shed in the back yard loaded, top to bottom, side to side, with cardboard boxes. When Bonus Dad retired, he actually organized the shed so that more can effectively fit in. 

Yesterday, I popped over to clean out a good portion of the box supply. They are now haphazardly stacked on my back porch, including a box I know I gave Bonus Mom in 1988. Bonus Dad did keep some boxes back for himself--I promise, there was plenty. 

As he was cleaning out the shed, handing me empty, dusty boxes, all I could think about was this might very well be one of the last times I am at his house. One of the last times we are joking about boxes... One of the last times about a lot of things. There are a lot of, "This may be the last time..." moments right now. 

I can't say I handled that, "last time moment," with Bonus Dad well. But I blamed my watery eyes on the dusty boxes.