good enough

I would call it a whim. My husband sent me a link to a house he thought I would like. He suggested we move, just for fun. To mix things up. We have lived in our current home since 2003. There’s nothing wrong with it at all. This is the only home our sons remember.

After looking at five houses, we bid on one. We found out late last night that we knocked out another interested buyer and we’re moving. Mind you, this all happened within two weeks. Thankfully, I’m not working for anyone else right now, so I have the ability to spend my days preparing our house for sale. And I have been purging!

This has always perplexed me: Why do we allow ourselves to live in mess/filth/chaos- but the minute we need to sell our property (or have guests) it’s a swirl of activity to get the place up to snuff? How is it that our own living conditions are not suitable for someone else?

My husband “finished” our basement eleven years ago. Yet, somehow he never managed to paint the trim. Now that we’ll be listing our house at 6:30pm TODAY, it has suddenly become a priority. Why didn’t I deserve to live with painted trim? Why didn’t the kids?

We have usable bedrooms in the basement with egress windows. The window wells that are the would-be escape route have always been disgusting. They’ve been full of spiders, webs, bugs and filth. I’m pretty sure we’ve been playing chicken on who would clean those- because neither of us wanted to. Yesterday I went in and cleaned them. (They were surprisingly easy to clean once I got over my fear of things crawling all over me.)

I know I can make promises:

In the new house, I will keep it like guests are coming every single day.

But reality is, I’m guessing we’ll fall into our own bad habits. Once the novelty of our new home wears off, we’ll collect piles of papers on the counter tops. We’ll leave projects unfinished because we’ll get distracted. We’ll always assume that we’ll have time later to finish the projects. Until we don’t. And I guess that will be good enough.

 

I love words. My head swirls with words. I have many deep thoughts. Some thoughts plague me. In order to release them, I have to assign words. Once the words are strung together, I feel free again.

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