*On the other hand…

Our house went on the market on Monday.

Every time I come down the stairs in the morning and see the sign in the front yard, my heart and stomach give me a little jolt. It’s really happening!

I have no illusions that we’ll sell our house in anything like good time. I also know that we’re moving by February or March whether we sell the house or not. For some reason, though, the for sale sign in the yard makes it so real.

And, of course, now that plans are in motion, I’m having little moments of regret here and there.

My girls won’t be near any relatives. I loved the idea of them growing up knowing my parents and two of my siblings and their families. Some of my best memories are of my grandparents. I wanted that for them.

(The good news is that will be much closer to my sister–not close, but close enough that seeing each other more than once every three years is possible)

And our house! I like our house! Since the possibility of moving first came up, all my discontent has started to bubble up and over. Once moving became real, and not just a possibility, I started falling in love with our house all over again. Of course. Because that is the way I operate.

(I still hate this town, though, and that’s not likely to change.)

One of the librarians here in town is about my age. She has three kids, one of whom is the same age as Emmy. She seems super cool. We’ve gotten to chatting each of the last few times we’ve seen each other at the library. Why could I not have met this person, oh, TWO YEARS AGO?

Next time I see her, I’m still going to ask her to be my friend: “Do you like me? Check one: _yes _no _maybe”

(But she’s one of only about three people I’ve met here who seem like friend material, and none of the others have been remotely responsive to hospitality or other overtures.)

I have good friends. Friends who are becoming better friends. Acquaintances who are kind of awesome, and who would be friends someday, I’m sure.

(But they’re all 45 minutes or more away. And some of the cooler people from Jeremy’s work are moving to Salt Lake, too. People who like kids. People who like to babysit…)

Our house is our own. That’s probably the biggest one, next to family. I like having something that is MINE.

(But these are the kinds of apartments we’re looking at. Provided they’re close enough to Jeremy’s work that we can sell the car, we’re still looking at a lower cost of living than we have here. And that’s before we factor his raise, which, after taxes, won’t be gobs of cash or anything, but it will help.)

(Also:)

I think I’m still pretty okay with this decision.

*So, a while ago I started another blog over at Blogger. I think it was maybe two years ago. I’ve been putting my entries here and over there. Just thought you’d like to know. In case this happens again.

OD likes to mess with the friends settings on some of my entries. OD also likes to kick people off my friends list. Please tell me if you think that has happened to you.

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