Yesterday I moved. I did it without fanfare, anxiety, or anticipation. I just did it. I made the call to Humboldt Moving and Storage who have steadfastly supported me throughout this quest. I packed my boxes in-between the dozens of events I’ve had over the last few weeks. Tossed the clothes, donated the books, re-gifted, re-cycled, re-peated all the things required of someone moving, for the 8th time in 10 years. It no longer feels special. It feels mechanical. Even the hunt, which has always been one of my most favorite activities – seems less exciting.
It’s a wrap.
Is it the fact that there are so few properties on the market? Is it the fact that the stocks are being batted around like a ping pong ball being hit by a pale blue Tiffany Paddle (it’s true – they have these – I just saw it advertised for the person who has everything – good golly! If I was gifted such a thing I’d feel compelled to encase it in a lucite frame and design a room around it. Suffice it to say, that I am not in danger of having this happen, and you are not in danger of having to witness it.)
See…there they are in all their Tiffany Blue glory.
So what is dampening my enthusiasm? Number 5 should feel like a milestone – half way to my quest. Is it that I am not half way to my financial goal of $1M. I say this and fail to scowl as I envision Mike Meyers with his pinkie finger poised at the corner of his mouth….one million dollars – as if that were a lot of money. But it is a lot of money to me, and I imagine to many of you, and that does make me smile. Am I making more money for the people associated with the process than I am making for myself? Is the only way to do this, to do it on the cheap. I rail against that realism, and steadfastly refuse. I am interested in design. I want to create beautiful spaces. I believe that the beauty of them is not skin deep, that proper wiring, sound structure, solid doors, and working plumbing are all beautiful – even though, like a problem child, they are only given any attention when they are acting up. I know, and work hard to leave what lies below, better than when I found it. This costs money. I wouldn’t want to do it any other way.
Adios pretty pastel kitchen.
This is an important time. I have four months to find a place or I’ll be forced to rent. Four months of living out of a suitcase, and by the kindness of friends. Four months to figure out if a need to move into another that I own, invest in a rental with friends, find a suburban property that I can flip for the cameras. It’s a lot to consider, and I have never before had to consider so many options without a clear answer.
Sayonara!
Advise welcome. Happy Sunday.
retrofitted the ceiling to support the crazy weight of the thing, and lit the place up like a Hollywood set. I then painted it, and staged it. That’s the long and the short of the effort. So why did it go for so much more than I bought it for just last winter? I have my theories; location, limited supply, location, unmatched architectural detail, and did I say location?
#howcanwereduceyourstresstoday. It’s love. I beg them with each move, I am part of their frequent flier club so we are well acquainted, to please open other divisions to manage the other aspects of my life, for which I am in desperate need of assistance. Alas, they seem committed to sticking to this one area, that they are super good at. I’d like to hold a grudge, but they are just too…too. If you know what I mean.
