Back in January, I'd posted about the old girl and how the weight of her sometimes got to me.
Previous post: This Old House.
I continued to work hard on her for the first half of this year, carrying out the never-ending yard work and maintenance tasks, replacing worn-out appliances, following up on planning advice and seeking quotes for renovations and improvements. Around me, though, the housing market was heating up. By July, I couldn't ignore it and was starting to pay attention.
One Saturday afternoon, in the midst of mowing that yard yet again, I stopped the mower to take a breath and had an epiphany.
It was time.
Time to let go.
Time to move on.
Time to make changes.
Time to find a house that fit our lifestyle needs better.
I had our finances sorted within the week, a very vague plan of action, and an appointment booked with a real estate agent. Since then, I've emptied the house of everything unnecessary, packed up a lot of our gear, sold or given away so much stuff and furniture that I've stopped counting, and managed to fill our wheelie bin with junk every week (sorry landfill!)
The house feels so much lighter. It also strangely doesn't feel like forever home anymore. I still love her, and all of her 96-year-old creaks and groans, but there's that sense that our time together is coming to an end. It's sad and exciting all at the same time.
We still don't know where or what our new home will be. I have a solid plan of action in place now, though, and I should have some exciting new house adventures to post in a couple of months!
Until next time,