The end of the beginning II

Welp, here I am, possibly infected with the Rona, getting teary-eyed whilst vacuuming carpets and cleaning counter tops (even though they say not to, but I’m me so who are we trying to fool here?) in preparation. Stress-cleaning. Prepping my house for a virtual walkthrough and raging girly-hormones have me really feeling my feels today. The sky opened up and cried me a river, like, “Yeah, girl. I know.” Sigh. I remember going through these same motions just before we moved in 15-ish years ago.

I don’t consider myself a materialistic person. I knew I would have feelings about selling my first house, the home I raised my baby in. The home all three of us pretty much grew up in, Squish to adulthood and us *into* adulthood. But it’s hitting me a bit harder than I thought it would. Because I’m sentimental like that, you know. The home where life as I knew it started to fall apart, and not in the way I had originally prepared for (hat tip to the Universe). Not because of COVID but rather the effects of the pandemic: being forced to look at myself, my life, my happiness, my relationships, take ownership and accept my part in it. “You can’t get something for nothing, you know.” While this ending has been extraordinarily painful and just as annoying, for me anyway, it is not the beginning of the end. It’s the end of the beginning, and I’m fucking here for it. I’m just also apparently going to cry a lot about it too 🤣 *sings* feeeelllings