Preparing for THE MOVE

This weekend, I took a couple of baby steps towards tackling the loathsome chore of packing up our house in preparation for THE MOVE.

I actually allowed myself to think about it for more than thirty seconds AND I did not end up in a fetal curl on the floor of my closet calling my shoes by their pet names. No siree. I was on a mission. As I cleaned the house on Saturday, I made mental notes about what needed to be done to our home to make it rent ready.

-Paint. Jesus, I hate to paint but the peeling baseboards in the bathrooms are the only thing I see these days. They mock me. And our front door is a mess. And the trim on the back door needs some work. But I can do this. I am the Google queen and I will learn how to fix these small issues. (insert dramatic music score here for effect) Really, how hard could it be? Right? I know. I'm slightly concerned.

-Carpet. What I would really like to do is rip the bloody carpet up, set it on fire and rejoice over its synthetic ashes. But that isn't really practical or environmentally friendly so I'll have to settle for getting it steam cleaned. The question is when. The obvious answer is to wait until the furniture has been moved out of the house but that would mean that we would have to stay behind a day or so and COORDINATE. Where will I store the children? The cats? See the dilemma?

And speaking of cats, how exactly does one move them across the country? It's not like you can put a leash on them and let them out at the rest stops along the interstate. I just know that transporting them will involve some sort of portable litter box and rubber gloves. I shudder.

I guess the final hurdle to overcome is finding a nice family to rent our house. I'm guessing that this will be the hardest thing for me. This is the first home that I owned all by myself. My name is the only one on the deed. This brick and mortar once represented freedom and independence to me and it was an affirmation that I could stand quite nicely on my own two feet which was something I had questioned most of my adult life. My soul healed in this house.

The feelings that I had the day that I closed escrow have since faded and been tucked away into that recovery cubbyhole in my brain. Our house, now filled with the love and security of a great marriage, is no longer my singular place for respite. It has shuffled down my totem pole of priorities to become merely an asset. I'm sure though, that when I see it framed in the rear view mirror as we pull out of the driveway for the last time, I will catch a glimpse of that broken and lonely single parent who moved in there four years ago.

And she will be waving good bye.