Lost in Transition

I have been a neglectful blog writer.  I’m not proud of it.  You would think that anyone who enjoys blogging could set aside two hours a week.  But, guilt is something I don’t subscribe to, so let’s move on.

Just over three months ago I was lamenting the ridiculous work that goes into getting my house ready to sell and cleaning out the one I was moving into....no small feat since my roommate, Buff Honey, is not one to purge on any regular basis.

I truly hate cleaning....I make myself do it.  But, God knows, I feel GREAT after making those trips to the Thrift Shop and the dump.

It’s like every one of the 15 moves I’ve already made.  I absolutely dread it.  Cleaning out closets, drawers, bookshelves.  Packing it all up in boxes.  Even moving old boxes I never opened from the preceding move.

But, once I’ve moved and everything’s in its new place, I feel like I’ve achieved Nirvana!  Serene in the order of it all, vowing to keep it that way.

This move, however, is totally different.  I’m not moving into an empty house.  I’m moving into an already crowded one.  Nothing if not challenging.

This involved serious reflection.  What could I not live without?  Of course, these are material things....objects.  Truly no need for much of anything.

Before, I could get to that, however, the house had to be staged.  Furniture moved, pictures rehung...hundreds of dollars on the stager, the cleaners, the painters, the floor sanders.  Not to speak of the slave labor I was contributing.

My back, my hips, my knees were killing me!  My thirty minute daily workout was kaput.  Done.  Had to save my energy for the house.  Ibuprofen was my best friend.

Finally, it went on the market in early July after two months of emptying my wallet and my energy.  It sold about six weeks later.  Against the advice of my agent, I told the kids to take whatever they wanted.

My son had already moved into an apartment in Baltimore and needed furniture desperately.  He took most of the living room.  Others took shelves, beds, tables, lamps.

I incurred the services of an estate seller.  I confined what I wanted to one room and told him to sell the rest.  The sale would be two weeks before the closing at the end of September.

BH and I took off to Florida in late August to celebrate my birthday at an Allman Brothers concert in Charlotte on the way.  God only knows how long Gregg will last after the liver transplant.  But that’s another blog.  Gotta get there...

The home inspection is coming up.  Two days later, a terse email appears from my agent.  “The buyer has serious concerns about the property.”

Really???  All new appliances, everything’s in working order, never any water issues.  But, if you pay $500 for an inspection, he better find something.  The buyer decided she didn’t want the property unless I replaced the heating and cooling system.

Yes, it’s original to the house...25 years young...but it works great.  It’s two zoned so they’re never on at the same time.  Plus, the home inspector found nothing wrong with them.  But, she’d had to replace hers for her buyer so she wanted me to do the same.

No dice.  Put it back on the market.

But, now, I had to put it back on empty.  The estate sale took place.  Tons of stuff left.  Good stuff, too.  Antiques I had collected for years, good china, Longaberger basket collection.  The estate sellers got an auction house to come and take what they wanted and they totally cleared out the rest.

So strange to walk into the house you loved completely bereft of the warmth you created.  Nothing on the walls, no curtains.  No family pictures.  No evidence that we ever lived there.

It’s been on the market for a month now.  Not a good time of year to be selling but there are showings on a somewhat regular basis.

It was brutal throwing out champagne glasses from my mother and father’s wedding, a beautiful cut glass bowl I made my first ambrosia in, the china my late husband and I collected.

I walked away with my mattress, two bookshelves, some clothes, my everyday Le Cadeaux melamine dishes, and eight boxes of pictures, paintings, books and a few keepsakes I couldn’t part with.

My dream of redoing BH’s house has been deferred to next year.  When you’re still paying a mortgage on a house you’re not living in, it depletes your resources.

Yes, I’ve been lost in this transition....crazy busy, getting rid of things I surrounded myself with for decades. Objects I thought defined me.

And, now, it’s done.  I’ve moved.  I’m starting to make this my new home.

I’m not lost anymore.  On the bookshelf, there are the two elephants for good luck my daughter brought me from Thailand.  When I’m baking, I smile at the potholder with my son’s toddler handprints.  And the chipped mug he gave me 22 years ago that says “You can do anything, you’re a mom.”

These are the keepsakes I can’t live without.