This past week, we crossed into the divide between our previous lifestyle and our new chosen lifestyle as full-timers. We moved into high-gear and it all happened so quickly. Despite planning for this for almost 3 years, putting the house on the market and ordering the motorhome are two events that can hit you right between the eyes: this is real, this is really going to happen!
For the past few days we’ve both been staring off into the
distance with glassy eyes, emotions running high. Normal routine is
gone for a few months, a victim of the real-estate agent’s interior
designer that came in to help make the house “show” better. The
coffee maker is now in a cabinet under a counter somewhere; my socks
are in the same dresser drawer, but it’s all been moved to the
other side of the bedroom; the tables are all set, apparently, for
the new owner’s first dinner party (I’ve been relegated to small
corner of one table, sorta’ between place settings that can’t be
touched.) So life has changed. As I was vacuuming the kitchen floor
the other night I came to the realization that this really isn’t my
house anymore. Yes, in theory we still own it, but in reality, we’re
just cleaning it up and taking care of it for the next owners.