Randy and I used to send each other music. He used to send some depressing stuff, yo.
Joy Division, for instance. I have a Joy Division rule. If Randy is depressed, then Joy Division is banned. Randy and I have been together a long time. I know the signs. One sign when Randy is depressed, is he listens to Joy Division. So, we just don’t listen to them much anymore.
This song, however, has been running through my head. Day Of The Lords. Where will it end?
Someone named Trevor is buying our house.
Soon, the person who lives in the house won’t be Michelle or Randy or Joey.
Trevor will be living in this house.
We listed our house on Wednesday, had an offer Thursday, and accepted the offer on Friday.
We have to get through the inspection in just a few days. I mean, that could tank the deal. I don’t know what the inspection will turn up, but I have no more dollars for fixing anything. We’re tapped. My fingers and toes are cramped from crossing them so hard.
We still have no prospects for finding a house.
We saw a house this weekend we both loved. It needs a fuck ton of work. It stinks. It’s new. And it is two stories.
We planned to buy an older single story house that needed very little work. But this house, you guys.
With a lot of work, this house would be amazing. It’s a few blocks from the river with a great view of downtown Cincinnati.
The amount of work would be daunting.
Every single wall and ceiling would have to be painted. One of the bedrooms has no flooring at all. The whole place smells terrible. Like corn chips and rancid kimchee. The carpet is grotesque, so I guess the room with no flooring is actually better than the rest of the upstairs. The kitchen cabinets and counters are depressing. The laminate in the living room is bubbled up all over and is this cheery shade of daycare orange. All the doors have holes punched in them. Someone very angry lived in that house.
That one probably won’t work out because we’re not ready.
We’re still trying to process the fact that we’ve sold our home (we hope, I guess) to decide on a house that will take more to get it into shape than this one. And this one took a year. Also, there was very limited space for sitting outside. We love being outside. And the view would be amazing, but we’d be looking over our cars as the outside space butts up against the two parking spaces. I think that would just end up being frustrating.
I guess what I learned is the constraints we’ve put on ourselves as far as our next house might be too rigid.
We’ve even thought about not calling it our death house. Maybe, it will be our “next 10 years” house. We are only whispering that second thought because we are still suffering trauma from almost selling this house to ever think about doing it again.
We have also accepted that we may not find something suitable in a timely manner and we may have to go back to being renters for a while. Which also has it’s merits.
We’ve been busting our asses for a year on this house. It might be nice to take a breather. We also thought that it might be a good idea to rent a house in the area we are considering to see if we’ll really like it. Our plan is to go from the suburbs to urban. I think we’ll love it. But what if we don’t? What if we hate it? It would be better to just live there a year than to have to sell another house. For all that is holy, if I can’t bear to think about selling a house again in 10 years, I can’t fathom having to do it again in a year.
In my last post, I talked about the lilacs in my back yard and how I looked at it as a sign and then had the shittiest day ever. What sign? Signs don’t mean shit.
Well, Friday, just before we accepted the offer, my son, Zach and I had lunch. I got in his car and he handed me a little bouquet of lilacs, the stems were wrapped in a wet paper towel and covered with a plastic baggy. “Grandma told me to give these to you.”
So, I sat there for a minute, holding lilacs from my mother and feeling my certainty that signs are complete bullshit waver for a moment.
It’s Sunday afternoon as I write this. My work issue is still an issue and my anxiety is inching into the vomit and/or panic attack level. Send up a few good thoughts for me when you read this. I will need them. I think by tomorrow it will either be fixed or I will have a better grasp of what it will take. I can’t tell you how much I hate this and how hard it is to swallow right now.
But enough about work, I have hours to try no not obsess over it. So, back to the house stuff.
If all goes well, we will close on June 22.
That gives us over a month to figure out where we find a house.
I have no idea what will happen. I can’t even lean a certain way. I know this is the worst type of situation for my anxiety. I understand this. I am trying very hard to not fight it. I know this will pass and we will end up where we end up.
I just have to find ways to ease the anxiety as much as I can.
I got these shoes on Friday, the same afternoon we accepted the offer. I bought these because I got deck paint on my black Keds and my black Keds were work shoes.
Sometimes, when I am super anxious, I create milestones. I used to write them on a desk calendar, but when I was in my late twenties, a douche twizzle coworker paged through my desk calendar and grilled me on all my cryptic notes. It was horrifying. So, since then, I just keep them in my head.
My new milestone is these shoes.
By the time these shoes are broken in and scruffy, we will know where this ends. We will be where we are supposed to be. Even if it is temporary.
Everything is temporary, isn’t it?
I don’t know where we will end up, but where ever we land, I am definitely planting a lilac bush.