Today was the most stressful yet. The Thursday showing has turned into an accepted offer of a little more than expected for this grand hovel. Unless something unexpect happens, the house is sold. 37 years, most of them being terrorized by my mother and the rest being hounded by Himself, i will not be sorry to see the back of this place. Should be all good right? should be all high fives and happy dances right? No fear. What started as a little generalized stress and worry about a little thing like not having someplace to live yet, has managed to turn my back into a complete corkscrew and i can’t concentrate on anything more mentally complicated than washing dishes. The friends i have told, keep assuring me this was the hard part and that everything will work out. All evidence to the contrary. No one has any answers…..how long can i stay here, how long will it take me to find a house, and buy it? how does a fattish middle aged lady get all her crap from one location to another? I still have my heart set on the little red house, though i still try not to. When i look at others, i just find myself comparing them to it. I swear I wish it would burn to the ground. I did reach out to the broker in Maine and both brokers are trying to tell me that you can’t make a direct offer to a bank for a house…and i happen to know that’s not true, because the internet tells me so. What’s the worse that can happen? they don’t take my money? they don’t take my call? why does this have to be difficult. Humans are such dickless creatures. I ought to know.
Meanwhile I discovered that at some point this winter, my brother cleaned out the garage, as far as i can see he didn’t take anything i consider mine, but it was kind of a shock since he’s never made any attempt to clean anything before. Made me very suspicious…. Himself managed to snag all the extension ladders but he did manage to remove a couple dead appliances and some other debris that was blocking access to my mother’s chairs. they need new rush seating and i really really hated them as a kid, so they went up on craigslist. I traded general emails with Himself and Mrs Himself and the Broker, mentioning that i intend to take every wooden storm window from the outbuildings and basement in order to build myself a greenhouse…I may not have a real house to live in yet, but i will have a place for plants i don’t have yet.
I can’t relax, too much to do, no plan, no destination, money won’t change hands for at least a month, in the meantime same shit different day.