Having lived in my home for the past ten years, I typically am overcome with a wave of needing, wanting, spastically having to move at least once a year. It appears t be cyclical. I love my house (mostly), my neighbors, the school, but I can't get away from the pull of my home town calling me to come home. The call was whispering even when I moved into my condo with my Husband in the mid 90's. Husband's affirmation last year, that yes, we should've originally moved their when we moved from the condo was a teeth gnasher that I have yet to come to terms with.
With Husband recuperating from surgery, and half a million things off of his plate, we fell into the discussion of 'the move'. I, apparently, have many, many things to do before we consider moving. My list includes cleaning out all the crap out of the garage. There's plenty of it. All baby stuff, old toys, children's clothes, just a ton of things. I had a sale last spring and made $200. Not bad, but oh so much more now. Go through the utility room and purge much like the garage. Oh, and also go through the cabinets and purge. Also on the list is painting the living room/dining room, upstairs hall and hall up the stairs. Oh, and the trim and doors too. Oy!
Husband wants to carpet the living room/dining room, stairs and upstairs hall. Good bye tax refund. Also on his list is re-doing both upstairs bathrooms. Ugh. But of course he has to recuperate first. I think I can do it though. Floors, vanities, sinks and paint. Can't be that hard can it?! Did you miss the "S" on my shirt?
With finally dropping the hope for returning to school for now, I feel like a child who's sadness with one thing has had her attention turned to something bright, shiny and pretty in the form a new home. Even if we never move, at least we get the benefit of enjoying newer stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment