Our condo is going up for sale. In fact, the realtor is taking photos right now downstairs.
The worst thing is making the house look like no one really lives here. Dust bunnies gone. Dust gone. Desks cleared. Pillows fluffed.
Now that all sounds really easy to live with right? What it really means is that all of my medicines are stowed away with my panties so I’ll see them everyday (or at least on weekends). My reading glasses are in my desk drawer where I’ll never see them again. Only the good hand loomed dishtowels are out. I can’t leave the glass of water beside the bed. Any books that might embarrass a potential buyer (or to keep me from looking like a social deviant) are turned spine-side in on the bookshelf. My ball winder and swift are stashed in the closet – with the stash. My circular needles are thrust under the skeins of llama yarn in the yarn basket by the downstairs bookshelf.
I remember reading somewhere that moving is one of the most stressful episodes in life. Great wooly gods!
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