Two weeks ago it looked like we might have a chance at competing offers on the house, but while we were away for Thanksgiving none of the interest came to fruition. We are back where we started, going on nine months and no sale. Today I met with a lady who manages rental properties in the area and she assessed the house for what it might go for rent-wise. Needless to say, I wasn’t encouraged. Instead, as she drove away, I felt a twisting in my stomach – a bout of anxiety paired with instinct that told me, “Not right now.” The risk is too great, the uncertainty is too much. It may be a last resort, but we’re not to the point of last resorts. Yet.
Speaking of real estate, Happy Birthday, Grandpa!
My last day at the magazine is looming and I’m feeling the slow burn of exhaustion as I write the content for the January issue. I keep reminding myself of the benefits of leaving: more time with my boys, more time to work on the book, more time to sleep, more time to run, more time… And then I think of the incredible experience I’ve had in the last two years and how I’ve enjoyed working with Michele. I think of the people I’ve met, the opportunities I’ve had, and how good the position has been for me personally and then I’m fraught with sadness again, as if I’m giving away something dear to me.
On goes the battle inside my head.