I am feeling a bit under the weather. Coming home from a long and sunny holiday does that to me. Plus, I miss my husband. I like spending time together as a family. And as a couple. Oh, and it doesn’t help my mood that we are going to be kind of homeless soon.
When we left to St Lucia, we thought we’d give it a try and put our house on the market whilst on vacation. We knew we wanted to move to a neighbourhood with better schools, maybe even a bit further outside of London. But we still hadn’t found the answer to the big question: Where to live?
To be honest, I didn’t think we would get an acceptable offer and we’d take the house off the market after a few weeks. Well, it took two days to get the first offer. I know, this is the moment to rejoice with exceeding great joy. Pop the champagne. Dance around the kitchen table.
Don’t get me wrong. I am happy. Kind of.
But I feel the pressure now. I want to find the perfect place for us. I want little L to make friends. Become familiar with an area. I don’t want to move her again in two or three years. I really want to lay some roots!
Not having roots gives me a lot of options to choose from. But it makes me feel very… rootless, too.
Who knows, maybe I am jinxing it by airing my anxieties. Maybe the buyer doesn’t get the mortgage. Maybe she is going to change her mind. Maybe a plain falls on top of our heads. Maybe I win the lottery and my husband will never ever have to go to work, and we can be together all of the time.
Ok, the last bit is very unlikely. I don’t play the lottery.