SO LONG, TUCSON!
I wish Blogger would get it's act together and realize that some things are best left alone! Now if you want to leave a comment here, you have to click on the title of my post! One more silly step to take! Or maybe not! Maybe they've changed their minds again! Who knows??? Why do they have to make things so hard????
Hey! That's it!! I'll title this post Griping! My head is spinning these days and my body aches because we are selling our house and moving back to the southeast. I am way too old for these HOT temperatures! Tucson is a beautiful place, and the mountains and the desert have been a comfort for me for 14 years. I love being able to see the horizon, and being able to navigate my way around town by keeping my eyes on the Catalinas. I've made some wonderful friends, too, both in the art world and the world of golfing, bridge, and bunco, but it's time for a change.
In the documents for selling a house, there's one called "disclosure" in which we must tell, among other things, if we have had an issue with snakes, bees, scorpions, Gila monsters, and other manner of desert creatures. We had to answer "Yes" to that one, even though each one of those things was a one time incident in fourteen years. Of course, there isn't a line to write in that little fact.
My main gripe is really about myself. Why on earth did I save all those artsy items I thought I might use sometime in the future? Why did I store it in a 10 x 10 room? How did that room suddenly turn into fodder for "Hoarders--Buried Alive?" Now I know how some of those people feel when they have to clean. It is overwhelming! Toward the end, during the 6th Waste Management big green garbage can full of "stuff," I am kicking myself and making a firm decision to live a cleaner life in the future. HA! We shall see!!!
AFTERHere's another gripe: We really have been working our asses off here, and falling into bed half-dead at eight o'clock every night, only to wake up at 3 a.m., not being able to sleep. I have turned into a raging fanatic of cleanliness--scrubbing the dust off the top of the baseboards with a toothbrush and picking stubborn stuff out of the corners with a toothpick. How sick is that???? Rod has been asking me "what should I do next?" You have to ASK???? Finally, I said, "FIND SOMETHING THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE AND DO IT."
Here's my final "gripe of the day:" We paid landscape men to spruce up our back yard, because we'd rather a stranger drop dead from working in the searing heat than one of us. It looked pretty good when they finished. Two days later, we have what my son Jeff used to call, "a belly washer" that dropped 3.3 inches of rain in less than an hour and a half, washing debris into our pool, and dirt out of our giant flower pots and onto the patio. Rod had to go out into the searing heat to clean up the mess. I held my breath.
Everything looks pretty darned good, and the agents tell us our house should sell quickly. Now we can rest, go to bed at an adult-type hour, and sleep until at least 7 a.m. BUT, NOOOOOOO! We had gotten so used to not sleeping, that we were awake and up at 5 a.m. There's no justice.