We are moving. Probably sooner than I’m ready for.
The housing market where I am is crazy right now. The houses sell after only a week on the market, some after only 48 hours. And, we (Lev and I) are worried that we will be left with no good options to buy if we delay any longer. We’ve made the decision to list our house within this next week. We are going to three house showings tonight.
The last 48 hours has been almost continuous packing and cleaning, broken up only by work and sleep. I think I missed some of my meals by mistake.
I’m not scared by the prospect of moving, even moving so suddenly. This next house will be the 18th address I’ve had in my life (I double checked). The majority of those moves were when I was old enough to understand what was going on and had a more-or-less active part in the packing process. This feels like a very old, worn-out pair of shoes; it’s not comfortable, but it’s familiar. However, this is complicated by having a small child who is used to being the center of attention, at least most of the time, and having no actual break from work to get all this done. When I was young, when we moved, I was pulled from school for about a week previous to moving so that we could concentrate on packing. When I was older, the move was usually across state lines, so I just quit work a few days earlier than absolutely necessary so that I could pack. This time, we are only moving across town, or, at the most, a couple villages over. We will have the same jobs. And, with how much time we’ve had to take off in the last year because of covid-related daycare closures, neither Lev nor I have any extra paid time off to use at the moment.