Well, guys, it’s official. My condo will be on the market starting on January 11th. The realtor that I chose came over yesterday morning and he was really great. He spent almost 90 minutes with me. He answered all of my questions, he was well-organized and extremely professional.
I decided to go for it without any hesitation, which is an ultra-rare thing for me to do. I mean, I usually question every little damn thing that flutters through my mind, which is so annoying. I’m constantly ticking my own self off. Oy.
But this decision felt right.
After he left, I felt like an albatross had been lifted from my shoulders.
Now my daughter and I have some major work ahead of us. I ordered a lightweight vacuum on Amazon which should be delivered today so I can do the floors with more ease since my regular vacuum is like pushing a boulder around. Keeping my house as clean as a whistle isn’t an easy task whilst suffering from fibromyalgia, so this purchase was rather necessary.
We need to tidy up and declutter for the open houses that’ll be planned for every Saturday morning between 10 am and 12 pm. I like this plan because I can just put my dogs in the car and get the hell out of the house for two hours easily enough.
While the condo begins its journey to a new owner, I’ll begin to start looking for a new place to live. The realtor, I must say, seems to know his stuff. He said that not even taking the mental health and emotional issues into consideration, the layout of the condo just doesn’t work for me anymore.
He nailed the pin on the donkey or whatever that saying is.
I have 3 “must-haves” for my next abode.
- No Stairs.
- Preferably a fenced-in backyard (or how about even just a backyard?) where my dogs can have some freedom and maybe some fucking exercise.
- No Condos!
I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.
I had an emotional chat about putting the condo up for sale with my mom yesterday and although I realize that she’s deceased (I haven’t lost my crackers yet, I swear), I feel as though she was listening.
From what I’ve read on the afterlife, the spirits of our dearly departed no longer hold grudges or experience anger once they’ve passed away. Whatever fears that plagued my sweet mama are now replaced with nothing but love. I do believe this with all of my heart. I keep trying to picture her up in heaven rooting for me no matter what I do in my life.
I asked her to stay close by, to help guide me in the right direction.
I’m thankful for finally feeling really good about something for a change. It’s been far too long since that’s happened and it’s about fucking time.