It's been a long time since I last made any kind of entry here and my FB presence has been spotty at best. I still love you blog and FB peeps, it's just been a [insert adjective for crappy here] year. That's right, no breathless updates about my overachieving, award winning children or my perfection-on-a-cracker hubs. Each month has unfolded with its own exquisite torture that makes me feel hopeless and petty all at the same time.
It all started with a Bible study. Doesn't it always? I'm not even going to tell you the name of this study because, frankly, I'm still not sure if this is something I would wish on anyone I know or ever may know in the future. Suffice it to say that this study really pounds away on the reader and points out the sinfulness of acquisition, greed, gorging on stuff. Well, I looked around and thought, "Yuck." My closets, my garage, my unused game room, my unused small kitchen upstairs, my entry that was oodles of square feet of height and nothingness. Frankly, it made me sick. The hubs and I had been talking about downsizing for a while. Our 5,000+ square foot house was becoming an albatross. Financially, time wise, and it was becoming a sort of idol for me. Let me be clear --- I adored that house. If I could have taken it with me everywhere I went, I would have. It was my sun and my moon. It was my happy place. I could walk through the doors of my McMansion and just feel the happiness with a Grinch-y smile spreading to every part of my body and soul. Dangerous territory, my friend. So, I finished this Bible study and marched home and announced to the hubs that I was ready to lay down my idol, downsize, and begin living my life and stop living for my house. The hubs had been gently pushing for this for a while because he could see the day when my beloved house, which was too big for the four of us, would be just the two of us rattling around. And I think he knew how I was inappropriately attached to a thing. He could see the writing on the wall. He's smarter than me. He doesn't need a Bible study to feel what God is telling him. Me, I need a banner . . . with a loud speaker . . . and a parade . . . with a personally addressed invitation to said parade. You get it -- I'm fairly deaf.
Anywho, the hubs and I got the house ready and put it on the market Memorial Day weekend of 2014. The Friday of that weekend, the hubs and I went with our realtor and looked at some houses just to see what was on the market. Once again, the hubs was smart. He knew it would be harder for me to let go without some idea of what was waiting for me. The entire day I kept saying to the hubs, "What if it doesn't sell? What if I went through all of this and God makes me wait and I have to sit in what I love day after day, knowing that I have to leave?" The hubs just patted my back and said, "You wouldn't be you if you didn't throw a little worry at every issue." Humph. I found the cutest house that day. It was 3,400 square feet, still a significant down size, but it had a view of the lake and en suite bathrooms for the girls. If you have teenage girls, you know what a huge feature this is. But even that made me sad because I knew it wouldn't be there by the time we finally sold my dear house. You can probably guess that my dear McMansion sold in 36 hours on the market to the first buyer that looked at it. For our full asking price. It was scary but dang if that wasn't God saying, "You're doing the right thing. And I'm making it easy for you."
So was put an offer in on the house on the lake. There was some back and forth gamesmanship, which I hated, that resulted in a pretty big price reduction, which I loved. The hubs and I were able to basically pay cash for the new house. What a feeling to go from our McMansion mortgage to a teeny little mortgage that is about the same as a car payment. We were feeling on top of the world and on the right path. I had hired a decorator who put us in contact with a contractor. I'll call him Mr. No Hello. See the lake house, while well laid out, needed a little TLC and after the price reduction, we were ready to make her nice and pretty. Mr. No Hello as you can guess by his name was less than friendly. He was fine with the hubs but I could walk in and say "hello" directly to his face and get nothing. Not even one of those chin-up head bobs that dudes do to each other. But I didn't care. The hubs had shared our story with Mr. No Hello and had told him that we believed he was part of God's plan for us. He responded that he had started his business in faith and really listened to where God was leading. What suckers we were.
At this point, we were living in one Holiday Inn after another. We had moved out of the McMansion in late June and were waiting for Mr. No Hello to get our lake house habitable. It drug on and on. In early August, I was getting restless and wondered why the floors were not even started yet. It was still a concrete slab after they had removed the tile and carpet the first week we got the keys in mid-June. Mr. No Hello was pretty grumpy about the floors we wanted to have laid (a vinyl plank that looks like wood) and kept pushing us to put in tile. We told him it was no problem, we'd just have the place where we discovered the flooring product install the floors. He said that we either used his guy or he would walk off the job. Yikes! We were stranded in a Holiday Inn and we didn't have any options. He had us right where he wanted us. So we caved. We bought the product from the place he insisted on so he could (I presume) get a little kick back and we used his guy. Long story short: it's awful and we have hired a lawyer to get him to either come fix it or give us our money back. That's right, he won't even come and fix it. Granted, any "fix" would be a complete removal of everything they laid and laying something else down. Mr. No Hello won't budge. His response is always "tough $%^#@!"
So now I'm in a house with warped floors that have missing planks and we have only unpacked the kitchen, bathrooms, and bedrooms. That's right. We're still in 75% moving boxes after a year. It's awful. It's messy. It's gross. And it's embarrassing. Even my lawyer asked me if I ever thought Mr. No Hello was a bad contractor. Of course I did! But when you're living in a Holiday Inn and you've been wearing the same five outfits to work for six weeks, you start to not care that Mr. No Hello is a douche bag of epic proportions. You just want to get in your house.
All this has made me question why God made be feel so convicted about moving. Why was it so easy to sell my McMansion and find a horrible money pit? Why was it so easy to find a decorator who just happened to have a contractor who had a miraculous gap in his schedule for July? Why take me to a house where I can't see my kids because there's no family space for us to be in? Why does it now feel like I did the exact wrong thing? Did I totally read this wrong? Did I once again zig when God was telling me to zag? Why in the heck does God keep whispering when I need a good shout with a shove? Doesn't he know I one of his . . . well, let's just call it "less smart" creations?
One year later, I have no answers. I am more sad, more hopeless, more directionless, and more pissed than I have ever been before. The last years I will have my daughters living with me have been marred by this. I hate that. And I hate Mr. No Hello for doing that to us. He took away Thanksgiving and Christmas in my new home. He took away all our family time. How can he walk away fully paid and I am stuck in this hell hole? I finally understand when the Bible says "gnashing their teeth." That's exactly what I do when I think of Mr. No Hello and every time I enter my house.
So, my peeps, that's why I have been MIA in sharing anything about me, the hubs, Moo, and Gibby. We are wounded. And I am dealing with committees and other groups that seem to want me anywhere but around them. For example, I counseled one of my committees about the legal aspect of a decision and one member came back at me later with: "You know, I googled that and here's what it said." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I don't know a lot about many things, but I can assure you that 23 years of being a lawyer has taught me a few things that maybe, just maybe, means a little more than Google. I mean, does Google give two craps what happens to you, Mr. I Googled That? Nope. But for some dumb reason, I still do. Granted, I am a tad on edge these days, but it would be nice if just once I felt my presence was not just required, but welcomed. Is that too much? Being welcomed at least one place on earth. Because it ain't my house any more that's welcoming. But my sweet family welcomes me, and that is usually enough.
In closing, don't give up on me. I'll be back. Maybe tomorrow or maybe in 10 months. Hopefully, I will finally rank my top most quotable movies.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
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