I’ll be honest, I don’t feel much like writing today. If I had my druthers, I’d rather post a picture. But I cannot do that because when I initially started this blog, I made a promise to write every day for a year, a promise I’ve already managed to break. I then made a modified promise (to write every other day and post a photo or original artwork in between for the remainder of the year) and I refuse to go back on my modified promise because it may result in me throwing in the towel altogether. I know my tendencies and when I break a pattern, it’s usually irrevocably broken (unless it involves binge-eating). And when I think about it, most of the time I only break good or healthy patterns permanently. When I break bad or unhealthy patterns, it only seems to be a temporary measure. They never seem too difficult to resurrect. For instance, since my transplant, I had been walking my dog every other day. However, when the last heatwave decided to stick around for a little over a week and kill off the grass and half the plants in our yard, I completely stopped walking her.
Slathering on a bunch of sunscreen, putting on my workout clothes (along with my sunhat and UPF 50 top), grabbing my keys, stuffing a handkerchief and a bunch of poop bags in my pocket, slipping on my tennis shoes, leashing up my dog, and heading out the door for a nice 3-5 mile walk was part of my routine. Now? It’s the last thing I want to do! No! I don’t want to go! It’s bleeping hot outside. Not only that, I’ve got ‘stuff to do’, namely ruminating obsessively over whether or not my house is going to sell. I thought for sure that yesterday was going to be ‘the day’. My realtor called before noon and asked whether we’d be up for a showing at three in the afternoon. “Absolutely!” I responded with enthusiasm. A couple of hours later, I received a text that the clients were running late and the showing had been moved to 4:30. For nearly 4 1/2 hours (from the time I got the initial call), I ran around and washed windows and swept and vacuumed floors and wiped down sinks and countertops and mirrors, and got a serious sweat going. My hair was literally plastered to my head.
And while I was making my way from one end of the house to the other(cleaning like a fiend), my husband was down in the crawlspace, redoing the ductwork for the return run/line from the sunken livingroom (aka ‘the chapel’) to the furnace. It had been decommissioned for unknown reasons decades ago and before my husband made the modifications, the only things working were the supply runs. Needless to say, he and I got done at approximately the same time. We were both filthy from head-to-toe so we each grabbed a shower and then once ‘presentable’, raced out the door so we weren’t there once the clients and realtor arrived. Right after we climbed into the car and started down the road, I heard the voicemail notification on my phone beep loudly. “Uh-oh,” I thought to myself as I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in order to listen to it. As it turns out, my concerns were valid. Our realtor had just called to let us know that the clients/potential buyers and their agent were no longer coming over to view the house. What a disappointment!
In my ‘past life’, if there had been a dozen cream-filled chocolate donuts in the car at that time, I would have easily eaten half. But since I no longer buy them, that wasn’t an option. Instead, since we were already cleaned up and in the car, we swung by Papa Murphy’s and purchased a $10 ‘Take & Bake’ pizza for dinner. Upon returning home, I dressed it up with mushrooms and olives and made a salad to accompany it and we had a nice dinner. Regardless, I couldn’t seem to shake the disappointment I was feeling. I still cannot shake it. I’ve been in a funk and no matter what I do to break its grip, I’ve been unsuccessful. I tried listening to music and shopping and watching a funny movie, but nothing is helping. And, oh my goodness! I want chocolate so terrifically bad! In my head, I’ve got visions of ice cream laced with ribbons of fudge, chocolate mousse cake, every possible kind of donut coated in chocolate (except for apple fritters), chocolate cupcakes with mounds of frosting, chewy brownies, deluxe chocolate chunk cookies, chocolate coated caramel popcorn, and every possible type of chocolate candy bar known to man.
I’m really trying not to allow my ‘catastrophic thinking’ to take over but it isn’t easy. It’s how I’m wired. On top of the bad news about the showing, my nutty sister Cactus Annie texted to let me know that she and her husband are definitely moving back to the region where we grew up. If it makes her happy, great. But I’m not too happy about how close (geographically) she’s going to be to me. We’ve never gotten along that well (because she’s bossy and opinionated and dishonest and extremely strange) and I don’t imagine things will change. I had really hoped to get out of here before her arrival but I don’t think that’s going to happen now. According to her, her husband was offered a job at the local school district (as a bus driver) and they’ve already applied and been approved and subsequently paid the deposit on the apartment in the senior living community they’re moving into. Personally, I think she’s going to immediately regret her decision to move back ‘home’. She thinks it’s going to improve her quality of life but I believe once summer is over and fall arrives, she’s going to get a rude awakening.
She is accustomed to living in a warm-to-hot climate and lots of sunshine. There isn’t a lot of sunshine where she’s moving to, however, there is plenty of rain (cold rain that persists for months at a time). It does everything from ‘spitting’ to ‘coming down in buckets’ from early October through April or May. Yes, she grew up there but she hasn’t lived there for nearly 50 years. I think she has forgotten how dismal it can be. Fortunately, she is hanging onto her house. I suspect that once she realizes that her expectations of having a better ‘quality of life’ aren’t going to be met, she’ll be returning to her house back in the desert. And it isn’t only concerns about having to continually deal with my nutty sister that is stressing me out, if we don’t sell our house and have to stay, I have to figure out a means to earn money. I’ve never been able to contribute much towards our household expenses because even with decades of experience in the ‘admin support’ field, I’m lucky to bring home $2,000 per month working full time. That amount barely covers our monthly mortgage payment.
Because my husband is a tradesman, he’s capable of earning much more. The problem is, since he retired from the military, he’s had trouble keeping a job working amongst civilians or ‘regular people’. He was doing well as an instructor at the community college but he quit when he thought we were moving and I’m not sure whether they’d be able to take him back if he asked. Fortunately, we have his pension to cover the majority of our expenses so if we tighten our belts, we should be able to last for a while. I squirreled quite a bit of my unemployment money away just in case we found ourselves in this predicament, and I’m sure glad I did! Still, the idea of whether we’re staying or going, which depends on whether or not we sell the house, continues to plague me. I suspect what’s at the heart of it is the lack of control I have over the situation. I can do a number of things to improve the appearance of the house. I can use acrylic paint to ‘mask’ the place on the bathroom countertop where the router gouged it. I can fill all of the nail holes with caulking. I can clean the oven. But as far as bringing in a buyer, there’s little I can do.
My friend ‘M’ suggested meditation and yoga to help improve my mood but I’m not good at either. Whenever I try to meditate my mind wanders hopelessly and I’m not even going to attempt yoga because I’ll probably wind up in the hospital. What generally works is rest and I have to tell you, I’m exhausted, so maybe I should drag my carcass upstairs and give it a go. I can barely keep my eyes open as it is! Alright, I’m going to sign off (before I end up falling asleep at the computer). I’m sorry I was only able to eke out 7 paragraphs but that’s the best I can do (all things considered). Thanks so much for stopping by and I hope to see you again tomorrow!