In 24 days, my pretty yellow house will belong to someone else.
On the market for 32 days – over the holidays – my two-bedroom Dundee house sold last week. We close on Feb. 1.
I’m excited and relieved and happy … and sad and melancholy and overwhelmed.
I haven’t packed a single thing. The Christmas tree is still up. The toys and gifts we all got are seemingly everywhere.
And, once again, I feel like I own way too much stuff. The urge to purge is running strong. (But can I really get rid of those boxes of childhood school papers? And high school cross country medals? And college newspaper articles? And what about my diplomas; what in the world does anybody do with those?)
Anyway, to storage it all goes (anyone have a good storage place to recommend?), while the kids and I stay with family for a few months.
Let the packing begin.
What I really want to be doing is thinking about the wedding.
I bought a Martha Stewart Weddings magazine the other day, though nothing in there is what I want. Seriously: Every dress pictured was huge and over-the-top and at least $4,000.
Same goes for most of the decorations and other ideas.
Our celebration will be simple. And beautiful. And perfect.
I can hardly wait.
It’s set for the evening of April 7. That’s only three months from tomorrow.
But it seems like forever.
I’m excited about the small, intimate, backyard ceremony we’re planning. And, most importantly, about the real-life happily ever after we’ll all finally get to live, every day after that.
A song for today. It’s about a relationship ending, but it’s pretty anyway. And it somehow ties in with new beginnings.