Sold the house. My house; our house. Signed the papers the other day, without any consideration of the implications. Just another signature, same one I use to sign for a parcel or a leave form at work. So, as of December 15, my birthday, I will be homeless. Oh, I know I am not REALLY homeless, as I appreciate how blessed I am compared to many. But let me wallow for a moment without being an understanding, left-leaning, social worker; I WILL NOT HAVE AN ADDRESS. For the first time, ever. The plan is thus: if I get a job in Vancouver prior to that date, I will be moving to Vancouver. Buy or rent, not sure--depends on what the market is doing (and I
soooo don't understand anything related to economics. I am still at the "why don't they just print more money" stage.). If nothing comes up in Vancouver, then I and my two best furry friends move in with Mom (they know her as Granny). This is a place I last lived in when I was 17 years old. In December this year I will be 43. Not a bad thing, I mean, I LOVE my mom. She's awesome, a peach. But somehow the idea of waking up in my old bedroom, which has remained the same as when I left it (complete with Wayne Gretzky posters on the wall---I was a Canadian teenage girl after all, of course I was in love with a hockey player---okay, I still am, but that's a secret) makes me crave an
Ativan and a a glass of wine. Anxiety encompasses me. I know I will be fine, but really, if I have to change my address officially to the one I used before I was old enough to vote.....?
I am trying very hard to live in the moment, experience the present, not freak out about the looming, dark,
vacuous future. But here's the thing: it is very hard to plan for the future, to take care of the things that need taking care of without thinking about it. So, today I went around and divided the house into lists: sell, keep, give away, junk and ?. After, when all of my/our possessions were classified, I dissolved into a messy, soggy, noisy mass of tears. As I lie on the bed, wailing away, Peaches came up and settled her little wise self against me, purring and warm. I woke up two hours later, soggy pillow, puffy eyes and no further in my tasks.
Where does it come from? Where do I get this strength/resolve/emotional numbness so that I can do what needs to be done. I'm
freakin' out here. What if I don't get it in time. This place belongs to someone else on December 15.
All I want for my birthday is an address.
So, my house is on the market. Have had about half a dozen showings and we (the realtor and I) are currently entertaining an offer. If it goes through, it will somewhat ironically be complete on my birthday, and exactly one year and one week since my husband left. Mixed emotions, to be sure.
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