A “for sale” sign went up in our front lawn on Sunday. The showings began almost immediately. It’s like the buyers can smell the blood in the water. A neighbor called and bitched me out for listing the house “so low” (in other words, at a price someone might - just might - buy it). People have been tramping in and out, probably commenting on the whys and hows of the sale. They know it’s a short sale - the realtor has to disclose it upfront. We had a second showing today. At 6 PM. On a school night. Now I remember what a huge PITA it is to list and sell a house.
One of the few neighbors I’m close to told me that at the school’s talent show the other night, everyone was talking about us and the house. My neighbor doesn’t put up with any of that crap so even though they know we are friends, I’m sure her tight lips drove them nuts. They want juicy gossip. I’ve seen her icy stare, and it would shut anyone down. They’ve taken to accosting Nikki as she walks Thora or the girls up and down the street. She’s also a tough nut to crack and her favorite thing to say is, “I have no idea about any of that stuff. You’ll have to ask Cristina.” It’s pretty awesome, knowing they can’t find out what’s going on. Even more awesome? The fact that we’re not having an Open House for neighbors to flounce through, exclaiming about my bad taste or lack of professional interior designers.
The house situation has rendered me blogless. I have no time, I’m working as a virtual assistant and running another small social media project. I’m trying to keep up with my own businesses and the other daily tasks of my life. My limited free time or creative time has gotten even more restricted; I’m just trying to get through it and hope BlogHer doesn’t drop my ad contract because I’m not writing enough.
Mike and I have reached an agreement on a settlement. It was efficient, but not without pain or stress. I’ve chosen not to write about the specifics of our divorce because I’ve read other bloggers who have. It hurts my heart knowing there’s a record of the ugliness or stupid decisions made during a time like this. I also think that when one party publicly bashes the other, it makes both people look like morons who shouldn’t have been allowed to breed. I’m sure I’ve made some big mistakes myself. I am very glad we were able to come to some reasonable decisions regarding the future and the children and what is going to happen with us financially. Unfortunately much of that is out of our control. The short sale will hurt us; a foreclosure will destroy us.
Which leads me to the next statement: seems like a weird time to be buying a car, but considering my credit is about to look as appealing as a turd on fine china, I had to do something now. My beloved Volvo has a ton of miles on it and costs $1000 every time I drive into the dealership. A friend of mine was upgrading and felt sorry enough for me that I was cut a great deal. I may end up living in a beat up house or apartment, and wearing clothes that are hand-me-downs or made by 5 year old slave laborers in Sri Lanka. I may end up selling anything I own of value on eBay, but the one thing I won’t end up doing is driving a piece of crap car. I got lucky, or maybe those positive vibes or past good deeds done for other people are coming back to me. And whether this is rational or not, I’m okay with losing the big house. I’m thrilled to be given a pass on cleaning granite and stainless steel, and trying to keep scratches from appearing on the hardwoods. I can’t wait to leave this neighborhood, have my children grow up in an area where reality is a mixture of people, backgrounds and ethnicities. I know I’m making the right decision, and I’m finally getting through the layers of guilt that feels like mud on my feet. So it isn’t rational to cling to a car - the trademark for depreciation - as something nice or luxurious or non-mom-like. But I feel that way, and I’m glad. I will hate not having a station wagon when I can afford to go back to the beach, but that’s a few years off anyway. Where will Thora go? In the backseat, between the girls, safely stowed on an old blanket.
Everything here, in my house and around it, is too much. Too much work, too much energy, too much pressure. I know Mike thinks it’s my fault we are in the house. He’s probably right. I made a huge mistake - and not the only one I’ve made in my life. I’m okay with my mistakes for the most part. They’ve served me well. With the exception of relationships, I rarely make the same one twice. I am looking forward to a pared-down life, one that is smaller, less complex, less about appearances and more about being true.
