Help, I’m Moving!


Moving.  That one word can strike fear or create excitement in just about anyone.  I mean, when you think about it, it’s a pretty big deal.  You’re taking everything you own, trusting it to a well-meaning moving guy or loyal friend, loading it up, and transporting it by less-than-smooth-riding truck.  Then you unload it and trust those same people to gently put it in a new place.  No wonder moving is one of the most stressful life events.  Who has that kind of trust?

We are getting down to the end of our year of small-town squatting.  It has been wonderful and we made so many awesome friends.  But now the future is knocking at the door of the rental house.  The real estate website has become the king of my browser history and I wander around mumbling about square footage and commute times.  Ah yes, reality is setting in.

On the one hand I am excited to get into our own house and have painted walls.  I am not a colorless-house person.  I kind of feel like I live in a hospital; all white walls and light tan carpet.  Meh.  I can’t wait to pick out colors, change what I want, and for Pete’s sake, hang stuff on my walls.  Right now the only thing bringing color to this room is my crazy long Pothos plant, Vivian.  She’s climbing all over my living room wall courtesy of some “invisible” hooks.  Thanks, 3M. 

On the other hand, I am nervous that the list of houses I’ve assembled will be filled with garbage.  What if they’re junky and just had good photos taken?  What if the house’s “bones” are bad and they did just enough cosmetic work to hide the structural flaws?  What if it’s a great house but in a terrible neighborhood?  How can you know that before you commit?  It’s that kind of stuff that keeps a girl up at night.

I guess it’s kinda a leap of faith.  I’ve spent days (seriously, days) on, looking at the proximity to the Hub’s office, the Caboose’s potential schools and ski hills, and where I’d like to live and work.  I’ve narrowed down the communities, made a comprehensive list…and then made another list, and come up with some houses to present to the family for discussion.  I’m sure there’ll be a nice sunny window for Vivian and her siblings, Trey, Silas, Roger, Lily, and Geri.  Now, if I can just find a mover that I can trust with my 120 year-old piano.


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