We've decided (well, nearly--maybe 90% sure now) to sell our house.
This makes me sad.
I love my little house. It was built in the early 50s, and is just bursting with character. I love the swooping Jetson like lines. I love the big windows. I love the mature yard and huge trees. I love that it's less than a block from the best elementary school in town and that Sophie was a baby in it.
What I DON'T love is that it has one bathroom. I don't love its tiny, tiny bedrooms--so tiny that a queen bed pretty much fills the space. I don't love the huge amount of yardwork attached to those huge trees--or the guilt I feel that it doesn't get done. I don't love that Janzen's bedroom sometimes doubles for a family room, or that the laundry is housed in a very dungeon-like pit.
The market in S. Utah has gone a bit mad since we bought some 7 years ago, so in some ways, we can't afford not to sell. The return we could feasibly get from our initial investment in it is kind of silly. But on the flip side, getting into something bigger/newer/better is going to be tricky as well.
I've already had a panic attack (ok, not real ones, but they did both require a large glass of wine and/or chocolate therapy) over getting the house in order to be shown. Just off the top of my head, I could list 20 things I've put off or let pile up for 7 years--and that's just the inside. Sophie said to me yesterday, "Mommy, my queen-powers are NOT for cleaning; they are for killing dragons," and I wish I could say the same. I think I'd much rather slay a dragon than get my house to the point where I'd be willing to let strangers look at it--let alone love it enough to pay me lots of money for it.
Day before yesterday I went out with a realtor (she's kind of hot) and started looking. I found a house I could truly, truly love, but the catch is, it's only a block away from the freeway. I sat on the back porch, looking at the unbelieveable playhouse, redwood swing-set, dog-run, and hamock, listening to semis going by, thinking, "Would the noise drive me mad?" And I'm afraid the answer was yes. There's a lovely condo that's "in the family" that we might be able to get into very reasonably, but there's no yard (of course) and I really have my heart set on a family room. Other options have slowly been presenting themselves, including building (which scares the shit out of me. E and I can't agree on dinner, let alone a whole entire house) and mainly I want to run screaming.