Frequently, when I mention our progress on Operation: Outta Dodge, I get comments and emails that ask me, "Hey! You're moving? Where? How come? When? Are you insane?"
Since my ability to answer emails in a timely fashion has been eclipsed by rampant listmaking and our summer schedule (summer school! Camp Invention! Soccer camp! the pool! eight frillion birthday parties!), I thought an FAQ would be in order. All your questions answered in one place! Content for the blog! A trial run of the new typepad interface! Everybody wins!
Oh, I wish! We are putting our house on the market, which is a vastly different thing. Our goal, of course, is to move, but I am trying not to get my hopes up. In my constant quest for zen-like calm and acceptance, I keep reminding myself that it is useless to worry about the things I can't control, like the market or the other houses for sale on our street. Instead, I should funnel my energy toward worrying about our giant to-do list.
Um, shouldn't you funnel that energy towards making progress on the list, and not just worrying about it?
You don't know me at all, do you?
Why are you moving putting your house on the market?
Space. We need more space. Specifically, we need a basement, because I hate living in a house without one. The girls have been champs about only having a portion of their toys available, but as they get older, they need a modicum of privacy, and room for longer-term projects. D has the chance to work from home more often now, but there's no space for him to do so. I can write anywhere -- hell, Blue Balliett writes in her laundry room -- but it would be lovely to have a dedicated area, so I'm not constantly lugging papers and books around the house.
True story: when we bought this house, I called our insurance agent to switch from renter's to homeowner's insurance. The agent asked me for the year the house was built (1995). Then she asked the square footage. Then, hand to God, she said, "Are you sure that's right? They don't build houses that small anymore."
We don't need a huge house. I don't want to clean a huge house, and I certainly don't want the carbon footprint of a house with space we won't use. But cozy is one thing, sardine-like is another. We're striving for the former.
Where are you going to go?
Not far. D works about an hour away, and we'd be thrilled if he didn't have such a beastly commute. I'm also perfectly happy to stay in this town, though. The beloved Sears dream house is 20 minutes from D's office; I am smitten with a neighborhood only five minutes from our current location. The only upside to our snail-like progress is that I don't have to decide between the two quite yet.
Speaking of dream houses, are you serious about not mocking Sarah Palin? Is that even possible? Won't your retinas detach from all the eye-rolling?
The thing about Sarah Palin is, she makes it so gosh-darn easy. It's like shooting moose from a helicopter. And lest you think I'm breaking my vow, remember...I promised not to mock her IF I got the Sears house. Until we sign the paperwork, it's open season on Caribou Barbie.
You must be tearing through that list, huh?
May I introduce you Baby Destructo?
And her sisters,the Entropy Twins? When these three combine their powers, chaos reigns supreme over the land. Every morning, they wake up, eat breakfast, and stomp all over my list.
What's the timeline?
We hope to list soon. Like, in two weeks, before we leave for a family wedding. I also hope that a money tree sprouts in my backyard, of course. We're batting cleanup at this point -- all the major work has been done, and we're dealing with eight hundred little projects. At times, it feels like putting an octopus to bed. Every time I get that last tentacle tucked in, another pops back out. I am practicing deep cleansing breaths rather more often than I would like.
You really are insane, aren't you?