At the End of the Day

After a few weeks of prep, we're live on the market as of today.

Which, the way I see it, means most of the work is done. Fix everything, make it look perfect, then just wait, while you live in your house and don't make any messes.

I cooked sausage and sauerkraut the night before we went on the market, because everyone knows you can't cook sauerkraut in a listed house.

Who knows how long it will take to sell; hopefully not long, but we're confident that with time, God will send the right buyer and we'll find the right place to go, and we won't be here anymore.

So I'm already thinking, what will I miss the most about this little house?

I'll miss my deep, soaking bathtub. I'm not posting a photo of the tub because, first of all, it's just a tub, and second the photo has the potty in it, and I don't love posting photos of a potty.

I may have spent more time in there than in any other spot in the house, except my bed. And I'd miss the bed more but we're taking it with us, and the bathtub will stay behind.

I have told God that if the next house has a garden tub, I won't hate that. An hour long, scalding bath at the end of the day, with a dose of Dr. Teals thrown in, a glass of ice water and a book on my kindle can fix just about anything wrong with the world. At least mine.

I'll miss the gas log fireplace, since I can't build a fire to save my life, and we use it almost every single night from October to whenever spring comes in Texas. When spring comes to Texas is a very moveable target, but it's usually here to stay by the end of February or earlier.

I'll miss the lights under the kitchen counter; we turn them on every evening, and they always make the kitchen feel cozy. This, by the way, is my favorite photo from the listing, not because it promotes anything, but I love the artsy fartsy look of the three bar stools, and the balance of the steel greys with a splash of wood texture thrown in.

And I love the saying, 'artsy fartsy'.

But most of what I love is like this bedroom; it's stuff that will go with us. These two beds, pushed together, are Cub Sweetheart's, and his brother's, childhood beds.  CS started sleeping in his when he was in first grade, and we somehow managed to bring them home with us when his parents' home was sold. Our grandchildren have all slept in them at one time or another. They're nothing special, scratched up pine, and a bit wonky, but they are absolutely special to me.

I'll take with me memories of playing Uno Attack at our kitchen table, but the table is going, as is Uno Attack, and the grandkids will, of course, come to our next home. This house is probably the nicest we have ever lived in, as homes go and the way the world assesses them, but it's still just a house. And our grandchildren don't care what kind of house we live in, as long as we are near and available. We've learned over the years that it doesn't hurt if we always have ice cream cups and corn dogs in the freezer as well. Kids from 5 to 18 can live on those two indefinitely. We'll do that at the next house as well. When our kids were growing up, and we'd visit CS's parent's, his mother always, always had a tin of freshly baked peanut butter cookies. Kids love tradition - hers was homemade peanut butter cookies - mine is ice cream cups and corn dogs. Essentially the same thing.

I've never been terribly attached to a house, but what makes a house a home - that I'm awfully attached to, and all of that is going with us.

I'm praying ahead for whoever buys this house. I'd love it to be someone who is willing to help our neighbor change her furnace filters and such. I'd love it to be someone who will make friends with the other people here, from day one. And if there is a woman, I'd love it if she knits, and joins the Needles group every Thursday to take my place.

Mostly, I'd love it to be someone who will turn it into a place to come home to at the end of the day.