I haven’t blogged much lately because I’ve been pulling out hair by the fistfuls for the past few months. I had to put my beautiful house up for sale. My forever house. It had everything I wanted, everything I worked so very hard for all those years of locking myself away in a tiny room, writing about knights and pirates and highwaymen. But alas, forever turned out to be thirteen years. The “forever” part crashed and burned with the divorce papers, it just took me another three years to realize the house was just too big for one person to handle. Plus it has stairs and I’ve had two knee surgeries in two years and I’m staring down the throat of a full knee replacement so…stairs had to go too.
Luckily my son had been doing odd jobs for me at the beginning of the summer, fixing things that had been neglected for the past three years of divorcedom. He rebuilt a deck and leveled patio stones, graded the interlock, rebuilt some retaining walls, painted and painted and painted inside and out so everything looked spiffy and renewed. Then blam, I decided to sell and, with the object of “decluttering” foremost in mind, Jefferson and Austin managed to fill two huge dumpsters with stuff.
After the dumpsters were filled and hauled away, Jefferson started packing. He went room by room and filled so many boxes, my basement looked like the final scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. There were narrow paths between stacks of boxes eight feet high, and when he finished filling the two huge storage rooms down there, he started shifting things to the garage. As my clutter dwindled, the giant locust moved to my pantries and kitchen cupboards, emptying them of everything but what I deemed absolutely necessary. He left me with eight plates, eight cups, eight glasses. Spices? Packed. Roasting pans? Packed. Serving dishes? Packed. Did I complain? No. Not when I thought my beeyouteeful house would sell fast. HAH. Two weeks or so after the listing went up, summer struck, so it was officially the end of the spring buying season. There were showings every day, sometimes two and three stacked like air traffic controlled planes, but for one reason or another, no one was moved to make an offer. One of the very first couples who came through…three times….loved the house but had one of their own to sell first, which, as the weeks moved into hotter and hotter summer weather, met up with the same stumbling block as mine. No one buys houses in the summer. They’re off frolicking at their cottages or horning in on friends and relatives who have cottages. Or they’re out golfing.
And there was I, keeping my counters uncluttered every day, making my bed EVERY DAY!!!!! Something I usually only do if I know there is company coming over. I mean really, who goes into the bedroom every day to inspect whether the sheets are straight and the blankets are tucked in properly? Especially when you live by yourself…it’s just you getting up in the morning from a comfy nest of blankets and pillows arranged just right, and just you snuggling back into that comfy nest the next night. I swear I was getting traumatized by the fact I had to smooth and tuck and plump the blankets and pillows every morning, then drag the bedspread up and artfully toss on the throw pillows. Artful shmartful. It was doubly annoying to have to artfully thwap those same pillows up against the wall each night and try to arrange my sleeping nest again.
Four months. I smoothed and thwapped for four months before a sold sign finally went up. And, as Fate would have it, to the same couple that came through three times and listed their house so they could buy mine. At least I know it’s going to someone who really wanted it and who, by the number of tradesmen who have been coming around, plans to take good care of it.
My forever home.
I’m going to miss it terribly. I’ll miss the forest out back, and if you’ve been watching my facebook page, you can see why. I’ll miss the actual size of the place, even though it’s way too big for just me. I’ll miss my deck and my office with the view of that forest. I’ll miss the firepit and the nights sitting out burning old furniture, setting off fireworks, making brandy-filled smores. My granddaughter was distraught when I said I was selling it because it’s the only house she’s ever known Grammy to live in. Same with Carter. Austin, though he doesn’t remember the Noake house, hasn’t said much but I’m sure he’ll miss it too. I can still hear the front door getting flung open and a little voice yelling “Grammy we’re here! Can we sleep over!!!” I’ll miss the Christmases when we sat 22 people for dinner, stretching tables out through the kitchen and into the family room and still had room for a hugemongous tree beside the tables. I’ll miss my huge, sweeping willow trees, and I’m sure Suzie will miss having a half acre yard to run around in.
I”ll have a new forever house soon, and it will be all mine. Hopefully I’ll last another thirteen years in it. Oddly enough, every house I’ve lived it, it’s been for thirteen years. This one is technically shy of the thirteen by four months, but close enough. I’ll be taking a LOT of good memories with me…and some ugly ones…but the good far outweigh the bad, so for the most part I’ll still smile at my house when I drive past it.
My office is being broken down this coming Monday and because I’m not real good at sitting on the floor to use a computer, I’ll be relegated to the iPad for checking mail etc. This may well be the last blog for another few weeks, at least until I get connected again at the new abode, so think kind thoughts when you think of me buried under mountains of boxes and used packing paper.
One thing I won’t be doing, however *evil snicker* is making my bed!!! Woo hoo!