It's Official

Job update:  Donald has not heard from Target but did get hired with a Christian insurance company to work part time.  He starts today.  It's not much money but it will get him out of the house.  Uhhh, I mean out of the RV.

Packing is in full swing and I'm really okay with it except that I find myself staring at all the amazing architectural details in my home and I do feel sad to leave it.  It's not a large house, more of a cottage really.  I'm pretty sure I'll never live in another house that matches this one for detailing.  Every door is beautifully carved, every window and door frame has gorgeous moldings.  Every door knob is antique, every hinge is intricately carved brass.  I found myself brooding over my English style, high tank, pull chain toilet this morning while I brushed my teeth.  And silly as it sounds, I will seriously miss my old fashioned turn-knob door bell; it's an actual bell, none of this new fangled electronic bonging for us!

A month ago I found a list in my night stand.  If you've ever seen my house or know anything about me at all, lists abound but they are usually stickies on the kitchen cupboards.  What is unusual is that it is a list our whole family made on January 18, 2010, nineteen months ago.  Yes, I date my lists.  We made the list shortly after finding out Donald would be medically retired but still not knowing any particulars. The list is what each family member wanted in whatever house we eventually settled in.  It's fairly detailed and has about 25 items.  The list got put into the nightstand and completely forgotten until I found it earlier this month.  Guess what?  With the exception of a hammock and a porch swing, this house we are in has every single thing on the list, including being located on water.  I don't think this is coincidence.  What I can't figure out is WHY?  Why we would we get to live in this house that has everything we wanted but for such a short time?  We didn't find this house.  It wasn't on our To View list with the realtor.  It was an after thought, a "if you still have time there is one more house I'd like you to see."

It is easy to make yourself crazy asking why questions, especially when you ask, and ask, and ask.

And ask some more.

And there just isn't an answer.

So, you fill your living room with boxes scrounged from every business and fast food joint in a two miles radius.

You take a deep, but maybe a bit ragged, breath.

And then you reach for a box.