How’re you doing out there?
I, am cold.
I’ve been cleaning out my closet in an effort to downsize my belongings lately and realized I really only have one sweater – and then a slew of short sleeve and/or sheer shirts. How this is possible when I am a 37 year-old woman that has only lived in cold weather climates is beyond me. One possibility is that I was just born with a bone-deep resistance to cold weather.
Another, more likely possibility is that I’ve been really cold for about 25 of the last 37 years.
I’ve been accused of sacrificing being well-dressed for warmth in order to be, well – well-dressed, but in truth (TRUTH, you guys) while that might have been the case in 7th grade, in the adult years, I just haven’t put much thought and effort into purchasing warm clothes. So while I am in the process of packing clothes into bags for goodwill – I am making room for a potential legitimate warm winter coat and sweaters that were made for New Hampshire women.
Or Maine ones.
Because that’s where we’re headed.
For good – or at least, for the next 9 years. (When do kids graduate, again?)
So, formal updates for you, as, for now at least – in this chapter of our lives (Soon to be over, of course) I wouldn’t want to stray too far from what you’ve come to expect.
We yard-saled: Some would say yard sale season is over, and y’know what guys? Those people are TOTALLY RIGHT. Most of the 3 hours of my poor little yard sale were spent making sure things were not blowing away. The other part of it was spent adding more layers of clothing to my body while telling people that everything had been reduced to 25 cents. When even that didn’t clear out the lot, my friend and I pushed everything to the curb, walked in the house with warm coffee, and magically – about 45 minutes later, it was all gone.
We apartment-hunted: You could say we have different goals in mind when we’re walking into a new house. Like, I’m all, “How do you heat the place” and Anna’s all, “How is this place going to fit CHICKENS MAMA?” I’m all, “How much is it again?” and Anna’s all, “If this is a FARMHOUSE does that mean I get a HORSE?”
I’m all “This is the perfect size for us” and Anna’s all, “I CANNOT FIT IN THIS TINY HOUSE!”
In the end, unfortunately for Anna, since I am the ultimate decision-maker, we are not living in a farmhouse. We’re not buying chickens, or a horse, or even another cat, because the pets already outnumber the people, and I can’t have more babies without more adults.
All of this because, our building sold: like, in a secret way. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
It FELT like that, though, since I didn’t know it was coming, or at least in the middle of the school year, and I didn’t really want to leave, and I couldn’t really process the messaging, because really – in the middle of the unexpected conversation about the unexpected sale of our house I was having one of those moments where I DO expect a soundtrack to kick in to soften the moment.
It’s really, really good though, guys. Like, if there was a montage to be put together – it would be all mixed up with happy and sad, but you would leave it feeling good. Because while my heart is ripping apart at the thought of leaving, what we’re moving to is where I wanted us to be, eventually – the timing just wasn’t necessarily what I’d planned.
In the meantime, in the absence of an appropriate soundtrack, this song is playing repeatedly in my head and in my house, while I pack.
Will someone make me a mixed tape?