Hesitant but “Moving” Forward

by Bella Rum

Change-GraphicI hate change. Even when I need it, even when it’s good for me, even when it smells like the first freshly mown lawn in spring, I cringe at the thought of it. The bigger the change, the more I resist. H doesn’t love it, but, as in most things, he smooths his way through it while I feel each and every bump. The worst part for H is how I react to it. During transitional periods, he lives with the equivalent of claws on a blackboard. When change is in the room, I’m not a day at the beach. More like a day in the ER with a bad nosebleed?

We finally called a Realtor, actually two Realtors. Twins. Identical twins. Because… why not?

The-Odd-Couple-Jack-Klugman-and-Tony-RandalWhile I’m not looking forward to living like Felix Unger for a couple of months, or leaving my house every time a prospective buyer wants to view it, my biggest concern is not how long it will take to find a buyer for our house. It’s about finding the house we want to buy. This will be a big move for us, probably our last house before our son sends us off to the “home” where they serve beans and rice three times a week and make you watch reruns of Gilligan’s Island.

We want a couple of things in a house, things we were never concerned about before: first-floor bedroom, laundry room, etc. But we’re realistic, we know we’ll have to sacrifice a few things to get what we need, and we’re willing to do that. The problem is availability in our area. We love this area and would like to stay here, but there isn’t much of a selection in what we need/want. I ask you, why do they continue to build huge, two-story houses? Don’t they know billions of baby boomers are itching to downsize? It seems like a no-brainer to me.

I make too many fear-based decisions. It’s one of my biggest challenges. It isn’t that I don’t move forward, but I do it with trepidation, seeing boogiemen around the corner. Caution is one thing, but throwing up imaginary roadblocks is another. H says I always jump straight to the worst case scenario. As my son would characterize it, “Someone’s gonna die in the end.” Pollyanna, I’m not. There is one thing, though. After the wringing of hands is finished, I do eventually settle down and get about what’s necessary, and I’m not so bad at that part. Really.

I don’t know how much of this stinky attitude is nature versus nurture, but I lean toward the belief that we roll into the world this way… mostly. I could use a few coping skills, but I do my best with what I have, and it’s gotten me this far.  Anyway, we’re going to move… unless someone dies.

In other news…

Email exchange with my son this morning:

Subject: Top Secret

Me ~ Dad and I were contacted by NSA yesterday. They informed us that we receive more calls from CVS and Salvation Army than our son. The eye in the sky is always watching you… or as mom’s call it, that little birdie.

Reply ~ Lol! I know and am very sorry. I will call tonight.

If I’d known it was that easy, I would have arranged a scandal a lot sooner.