It's starting to get real around here. I packed up my paints. That was harder to do than I expected, even though I haven't painted anything in months. My entire crafting supply cabinet has been emptied and the whole thing has gone to the garage to be out of the way. Yesterday I had to admit to myself that I won't have any free time to go back and finish the quilt I started making a year ago, in the hope to have something lightweight on my bed during warm weather (because my room is hot as an attic in summer). With each box I have to grow up a little bit more and keep a stiff upper lip about this place. I don't think I've been as attached to a house, and as upset about selling it, since my family let go of the house I grew up in, the one that had been in our family since at least the 1940s, maybe all the way back to 1939 when my grandparents married. (I'm sure my mother will clarify for me when she reads this.) I found the part of myself here that had been adrift since that other gut-wrenching sale twelve years ago. And now I have to walk away from a place that really felt like home, once again. We have our first meeting with the realtor tomorrow, and we are trying to clean a bit, and unclutter before she arrives. The house already feels so torn apart and empty to me, and we have barely begun to remove the big stuff. I can handle it as long as the walls stay decorated. Pull one painting down, and the tears will flow. Remove a mirror, and I won't know where I am anymore.
I made an appointment with our realtor out west today too. The second condo is supposed to be completed in two weeks, and after I go scrub it clean and replace the window screens that my grandkitten shredded, it's going on the market. To call that housing market hot is an understatement. It is beyond stupid out there now. It's possible that I could list the condo on, say, Thursday of the week I'm there, and have multiple offers by the time I leave early the next week. I have to hope that is the case. We need a quick sale if we are going to be able to compete in the very same stupid market ourselves. Nearly every single house that goes up for sale under or around $300,000 ends up in a bidding war within days. They go for tens of thousands over asking price. We would love to be the beneficiaries of such craziness for our condo, but are dreading it when we look for a house. There is no way we can live in the same town where we are selling. If I understood correctly, it is the single most expensive housing market on the whole Front Range.
One final thought. I trimmed the big knockout rose hedge in March. I made a point of making the crown of the bush even with my chin. The man helped me get the tallest points in the center down to my chosen height, and he was even more strict than I about thinning the crossing canes and getting air into the center of the hedge. I stood next to it today, and now, three weeks after we completed the major pruning, it's already almost a foot over my head. It's thick and full and covered with tiny buds waiting to explode. I took a picture of it, with the camera lined up even with my eye. I think it's the right metaphor for this explosive housing market. It's growing too fast, and it's a little overwhelming. But it has the potential to be beautiful and exciting. More as these stories develop.
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