Not long now

(Please note that I'm typing with my fingers crossed because I've grown very superstitious and weary these last few weeks, so I can't jinx anything via blogging.)

I'm about to fax the last redundant document over to the mortgage company in preparation for closing tomorrow. That's all I want to say about that until they hand us the keys.

But in other news, I wrote an informative piece for the Times and a ridiculous one for you.

Moving Sucks

So that offer probably isn't our buyer, so life goes on. Or rather life in this house goes on staged, cleaned and from a cardboard box.

Friends, I'm tired today. I'm tired from all of the stupid details that I have to attend to, the running and other ridiculously necessary things I have to do in a day.

One of those really irritating errands was a blood test this morning. This is a requirement for a new life insurance policy, because apparently State Farm has determined that if I should die, Sean will need quite a large sum of money to replace me. I'm not sure why this is, but I totally suggest getting into the rodeo clown business if you're looking for a career change because that's where there is great income potential.

Anyway, I had to fast for this test, (Because lord knows a cup of damn coffee might just throw off my body chemistry counts so hideously out of whack that modern science could not deem me insurable) so I was particularly cranky and headache-y in that hazy way when the nurse asked me to get on the scale. (For a split second, I was glad I was fasting.) It was one of those real official types--sliding weights and measures around like an abicus and so accurate you can't even take off 5 pounds by removing your shoes--but the nurse was having trouble with it.

"114, does that sound right?"

"Um, sure if we're not counting my bones, skin, and vital organs."

"Oh, sorry. I was 10 pounds off."

And you know what, I didn't even correct her that she may be a hair off from even that.

Because moving sucks and today the universe owed me at least 10 pounds.

And a damn cup of coffee.

Knock on wood

We interrupt this regularly update on our new house to give one on our current one: Houston, we have an offer.

Ok, who knows if this will lead to the eventual sale, but it is an offer and now the excruciating process of negotiating begins. At least I find it to be so.

So while I do not want to jinx it by counting all of those chickens yet, I will say out loud that I hope it is because selling this right now before entering October having to show this with four kids and a dog will save what little is left of my mind, body and soul. And to be able to move out knowing it won't be left vacant will be worth a boatload of worry cells as well.

So if this is it, I'll dig up St. Joseph and give to all of you out there with your fingers crossed.

For you, Intern

Danny warned me that since I hardly ever update anymore, I might be losing readers. Well, here you go, Intern. An update and countdown to our move.

We went to Nashville this weekend for a quick visit to check out Stevie's future hockey team as well as our new house. We put in an offer on a house that we spent a whopping 18 minutes in the first time around, because that's probably twice as long as we normally would make a life-altering decision. That's just how we roll. So this weekend I got 18 more minutes to check to see if there were blinds on the window and where the bathroom was.

Luckily, my memory was faulty, and I loved it even more now that I knew it is ours. (Almost.)

But there are a couple of things that we do need to change....



I've changed too many babies diapers to let this stand in the girls' room.



And I'd really like a working butler to work in this butler's pantry...



And unless all of the kids decide to go to LSU, these colors in the basement need to go.





But I love my new kitchen.



And upstairs loft which differs from the upstairs playroom complete with its own wetbar and ice maker.



Tomorrow (ish) I'll post pictures of the outside which is just as extreme in its awesomeness.

About that house...

It's big and beautiful, and hopefully, soon to be ours.

We have a contract on this, and right now we're on that torturous stage of inspections, mortgages, appraisals and a host of other non-fun things before we can close and move in. I realize that these things are a necessity, but I hate this part.

This house is much different than the one we're in now. I remember 10 years ago walking into this one and saying, "It'll do." We were in the neighborhood we wanted, and I was so close to giving birth to Matty, and it just felt like anything with a roof would do at that point.

This one was different.

Each of us walked in and before we'd even toured then entire thing, everyone had announced that this was the one. The neighborhood, the location, the house...it just seems to fit us right now.

It's big--but I'm ready to fill it. Besides a big family that deserves some elbow room, I want frequent guests. I want room enough for friends and family around the country to stay with us. I want to do all of the tourist things in Nashville (and there is a lot!) and I want to share that with everyone.

So come and sit a spell on our back porch, and we'll go to the Grand Ole Opry and anything else that city has to offer. It's a new adventure and I want you all to join us.

It's been kind of a busy week...

In the past seven days I've put the house on the market, traveled to Nashville where we toured two schools, 17 houses, and the downtown metropolitan area; bought number 14 of that lot, started the school transfer procedures, shown this house twice, continued with bathroom renovations and managed to get everyone to school, baseball, football and cheerleading practices. On time.

To say I'm exhausted would be fair, but I am also excited and overwhelmed.

First, this house.

It sucks to sell a house when the bathroom is still being remodeled and you have the world's hairiest dog and Jesso to cleanup after. I just walk behind them all day with a Clorox wipe and a Swiffer. Not that I have time, but I'm afraid to cook a meal because I don't want the house to smell like some of the ones we toured. Every single routine has been disrupted, and I sort of feel like I'm not really living here because everything that gave this house personality--our personality--is boxed up and sitting in the garage in order to sell it.

I get it, I'm just over it already.

And then there's the new house.

I love it. We love it. We walked in the front door, and even before we saw every room we all announced seperately that this was it. It just felt like home. immediately. It's big and beautiful and I just saw us there. I haven't felt that way in a long time.

But even that wonderful experience is stressballs because now there are offers and counter offers, mortgage shopping and gathering of documents, inspections and appraisals and all of the non-fun stuff that goes along with buying a house. I want to just skip ahead to the picking out paint swatches and eating Chinese food on cardboard boxes waiting for the movers to arrive.

But I guess that's not going to happen until we get through a few more months of Swiffering.