I have, selfishly, been neglecting my blog. There is much a-buzz around and I have not had a second to sit down... type.... erase...start over... edit....and type again. I start blogs and then....just stop.
My confession though is simple. I am really, really sad. One foot goes in front of the other and while I want the minutes to fly, I want the days to drag. Sooner than I care to admit, we are going to close the door on this chapter in our lives, on this home.
While some might think it a blessing, our house sold ... in... six... days.
Sidebar: Is your house for sale? Are you thinking about putting your house on the market? Is there any remote chance that you are curious about your house? Call Ross. Call him. Just pick up the phone and call him. Send him an email. There are three guys that know this town's real estate market and there are three guys who will shoot straight and take the time that is needed to make the magnanimous decision that involves five, six, or seven digits. All three have the same last name. Trulock.
Where was I? Right... my pity party. Our house sold and we have to be out in about four weeks. Every room we have painted, every gerbera daisy we planted, every update we made to our little home will now be someone else's gerberas and someone else's walls for their artwork, pictures, and memories. It just puts another nail in the coffin of residency and sets the reminder that time marches forward and stops for no man or sad little girl.
Soon, we will pack up whatever ramshackle apartment we will be living in for the next four months and put *some* of our memories in a U-Haul and head up the road. The rest will be in my brother's attic in boxes marked with the dates and the weather. Those memories will be stuck collecting dust for forty months before we return.
We have great adventures that are in store for the three Cagles. Great times await us in the tiny apartment with bad lighting and cheap carpet somewhere in Augusta while we wrap up Husband's training here. Greatness is in store for us when we head towards the Mason-Dixon line and that cramped, over-priced place we will call home. Absolute Greatness, I say.
I am allowed to be sad. But my pity party ceases when we close our lovely white, window-paned door and let the new owners make their memories on top of ours.
They just needed our good foundation.