We've put our house on the market.
Phew. I said it.
It's really not a big deal. There's just that weird "what to disclose on the Internet" thing that makes things all awkward sometimes. How much should I say?
How much should all of the, oh, twenty? readers of this blog know about me?
So, I've tossed (not thrown) caution (a little) to the wind and decided to finally admit that yes, our house is on the market. That yes, the past week and a half of my life has been swallowed in taking half of our stuff to storage (less stuff means less clutter...we're seriously bare bones over here!), organizing what's left, and doing my best to keep everything clean and show-worthy whilst also doing something else ... oh that's right, feeding and caring for an eight month old and a twenty-eight month old. No biggie! Easy!
I've only had one really big ugly cry meltdown!
That's all, really. Nothing exciting. No dramatic story. Nothing noteworthy about the whole thing (which is, of course, a good thing!). We'll see what happens next.
In the mean time, please understand why my blog posts might look something like this:
"Well, today I ... oh hey we're selling our house!" or "My favorite thing to eat is oh wait did I mention we're selling our house?" or "I love it when I get in my car and guess what we're selling our house."
Essentially, no matter how much I would like the fact that we're selling our home to not permeate every creative vein in my brain, it's going to. At least for a little while. Until the hub-bub and newness of it all simmers down and life can kind of resume as normal-ish. Kind of.
So, my apologies for any lame blog fodder that may surface on Little Footy Pajamas. I'll try to avoid gushing about how our bathroom is SPARKLING and how the baseboards and window sills and door frames are touched up and gleaming a lovely bright white. As our realtor puts it, we're dressing up our house for the ball and waiting for the guest of honor.
And I realize the guest of honor might not show up for a while. It's the market. BUT, by golly, our lady of a house will be ready when that guest shows up. Even if it means more ugly cry meltdowns from yours truly.
What was the point of this? Am I rambling? It's late on Friday and I'm rambling. I'm sorry.
But my baseboards? SHINING.
Okay. Have a lovely weekend.