You Better Shop Around

Last night at 7:30 PM, when the boys got home from dinner with their dad, we three were out in the front yard, in our bare feet, at dusk, burying a statue of St. Joseph and reciting a prayer for his intercession in the speedy sale of our house and the presentation of our next home. The anticipation and rejection that one is exposed to when either listing a home or making an offer on a home is something I'd be mighty fine to never revisit again, having gotten quite enough of that sh*t in high school.

 

Although I think Baby Jesus is prepping me for my future in the dating world, which I never really lived in for the first third of my life. I just sort of wake up one morning in a relationship.

 

One does not wake up one morning to an offer on their house. Or the acceptance of their offer on someone else's house. On Sunday, the boys and I looked at a 1200-square foot house, a manageable size with a manageable yard, and we all fell in lurve. Me because it was cozy and charming, like the houses I spent weekends in when I was a child. The boys because it was a three-bedroom in my price range, a floating opportunity to each have their own room. I put in an offer, a little bit below the asking price, contingent on selling my house, which has had seven showings in nine days.

 

I made two mistakes. The first was that I told the boys I was making an offer, which is the little kid equivalent of "I'm buying this house." So they asked me about it for three days. The second was that I, against everything I've ever learned in my entire life about letting cats out of bags and jinxing the hell out of myself, sent a non-specific request for prayers and good energy via Facebook, this blog and email. Despite the support of the entire universe, the seller was not interested in a contingent offer. Lady wants to move now. This makes no sense to me, because she could still show the house and try to get a better offer, but whatevs. Good luck to her.

 

The hunt continues, but after the disappointment of wanting something and not getting it, I am forcing myself to turn my attention away from finding my next house and back into selling my own. Oprah says that whatever follows "I am..." will come to be, in the principals of self-realization or actualization or whatever. "I am selling my house by the end of June. And St. Joseph is going to help me." Even if there is some activity going on in the home search operation, I am not talking about it.

 

It's amazing how little one spends on one's house when they KEEP it clean. Keeping things tidy and putting them away as we go, while not a pre-existing practice in any home I've ever headed, means that very little work has to be done to make it ready for a visitor. It also leaves me free time to sit, exhausted-like, in front of the TV in the evenings, with sons in separate rooms who are themselves to exhausted by summer day camp to be bothered with each other or me, thinking about all the decorating options that await my next adventures in hearth and home.

 

Most of this is done on Pinterest, so I offer you my five favorite pins of the week. (Click on the picture to go to the Pin, which will go to the website with the original image.)

 

I have been in love with gray cabinets for three years, but could not do them at Misty Hollow
because our counters were the wrong colors. I am evaluating available housing based on the
Potential for Gray Cabinets criteria.

If Jake and Landen have to share a room, I told them they could each pick a color and
that would be what we used in their new room. Landen picked yellow. Jake picked black.
I said "no." Jake said gray. I can do a LOT with yellow and gray, which is a combo
I have never worked with before.

I can't imagine a Southern girl alive should not have a "Hey Y'all!" print near her home's entry.



I saw these charming mixing bowls on a cute farmhouse online store. I needs the pink one.

Last weekend, I got my first haircut since November. As I am particular proud of my hair,
this is indicative of a very unhealthy mental state. My hair is about as long as the model's
(but prettier) and my tresses could be FIERCE if I could use both hands to blow it out.
This contraption is the Blow and Go.

And this is a bonus, because it's true.

I am sans children for the next seven days, as the boys are off on the first of FOUR summer adventures with their multiple sets of grandparents. I eat jelly beans for supper when I do not have anyone to cook for.

 

Happy Friday, folks.