So, around 3:30 in the morning (give or take) on some random day somewhere around a holiday, could be Halloween or Thanksgiving, you pick, my husband hears “I want to sell the house.” He mumbles “ok” as he rolls over and immediately starts his deep sleep again. The next morning he awakes as if nothing has happened, but the wheels in my head have been turning for hours. I almost feel sorry for him, but no. This has been a long time coming. My sweet husband and I bought our house around five maybe six years before. Honestly, I do not know or really care, all I wanted was a place to call my own. So now starts the flashback.
Back in the year 2000, when dinosaurs roamed (ha ha ha), my husband and I sold our house in northern Illinois and moved to Texas with our two children, Joshua and Jack, (those are their real names as I birthed them and named them, thus I have copyright over them). Living in Texas had its ups and downs, and never a dull moment or should I say “never a dull moment except for those moments that come between the not dull moments.” Texas really had those moments, just like being unceremoniously relieved of your job and left looking for a new job, when those in power owe their jobs to you. Seriously, I’m not bitter.
So John, my husband, found himself looking for a new job while our son, Jack, was a senior in high school. John found a job, but it was in Ohio and not in Texas and that meant a split. So, there was a decision to be made, we could either leave our youngest son with others and move together or we could make him move and finish his last year in a strange school with people he did not know, or we could separate and let him graduate with his friends. John and I chose number three. John and I were separated for almost six months. Jack graduated, and John and I moved the same weekend. I love my son but I missed my husband who I had not seen or been within around six months. My son, Jack did not want to move to Ohio so he stayed behind to be with his girlfriend, to work and go to college. As parents of newly graduated teens who know that they no longer have to do as we say or want because they are now adults and do not have to live with us anymore, we did not argue. Basically, as parents, we do not matter, unless we are deemed necessary. I am not bitter, not at all.
Columbus, Ohio here we come. Now that first year here entailed a whole new life, one that I never thought I would have to live. We were technically squatters. Our realtor, Lori Lynn (yes, this too is her real name, I asked and she said I could use it plus this is not Dragnet the names have not been changed to protect anyone who is innocent. Though I may change names to protect the guilty. They know who they are and therefore should be ashamed of themselves.) had put John in a house to live in temporarily to make it feel lived in but with the full knowledge that he would have to leave at a moment’s notice if anyone wanted to view it or if it sold. We kept it clean, neat and tidy and it sold in a couple of weeks of me being there. Great now we are homeless. Our realtor found another townhouse that was empty and we could live there month to month. I call it the Crap Shack. The Crap Shack was gross. It smelled and had not been cleaned in months. It was crappy. I cleaned it and we stayed there for about 30 days and then we moved to a really nice townhouse. Finally, after about six months our house in Texas finally sold. After a year in the townhouse, we knew that living there and walking the dogs five or more times a day rain or snow was not the life for us. Regrettably, we had to leave our cute townhouse.
The problem with buying a house in Columbus is that it is a seller’s market. Houses do not stay on the market long. We would look at a house, like it and offer to buy it and the reply would be, “NO!” I cannot tell you how many times we tried to purchase a house just to be rejected. It is like walking around with a bucket of money and saying to anyone who passes “Here is my Bucket O’ Money. May I please purchase your lovely home?” and get a response of “Your Bucket O’ Money is not good enough.” Finally, when all hope is lost a house is found and Bucket O’ Money is then accepted. Whoo Hoo!!! You move in and find out that your husband does not like the house and only bought it to make you happy. I love my husband and that was a very sweet thing to do for me.
So for the next five years or so John and I slowly worked on the house. It was a good house but had a really small yard and the house was in a nice neighborhood and the neighbors were not friendly and the houses were really close together. I finally had the house done just the way I wanted it. The last bathroom was painted. I had nothing to work on. So, this brings us back to that fateful morning. End flashback.