One week to go

I swear this house is end-of-lifing.

A few months ago, our water heater decided it couldn’t hold out one more minute and flooded the garage. Now one of the toilets has stopped working. There’s standing water draining ever-so-slowly in the shower, and one ceiling light in the living room will not stop blinking. The lamp on the Husband’s nightstand won’t turn on, except when it does: spontaneously and in the middle of the night. Paint is peeling off in sheets around a water-damaged wall. All systems are failing.

We closed on the loan today, an event that was somehow both deeply terrifying and anticlimactic all at once. Closing was a big deal when we originally bought the house. I think I even got dressed up to go the title office and sign everything. This time a notary came to us, I was unshowered and in sweatpants, and the whole thing was done in 15 minutes. We have until Wednesday to call it all off, so if the Universe thinks this is a bad path to pursue I’d appreciate it if it would tell me before my right-to-cancel expires.

We are now surrounded by boxes. Packing is one of my super powers, and it’s a great way to deal with all the nervous energy just surging through my system these days. Wine is also playing a role.