We are thinking about picking a hew home.
It’s time. The old one is too big. Time to downsize. Time to get rid of too many belongings. That collection of all that stuff that will surely come in useful someday. But hasn’t yet. (Never will.)
Margaret is so much more organized and methodical about these things. She’s got the all the local neighbourhoods scouted out and organized and catalogued, suitable properties ready to pop up onto the screen at the click of a mouse.
“Where do you want to live?” she asks.
Where do I want to live? That’s the question now, isn’t it?
I try to imagine a place where I’d like to wake up. The sun is streaming through the curtains. I push the window open wide and take a deep breath from the ocean breeze. The sunlight dances on the waves in the bay, the gulls skim over the surface of the water. There’s a light clanging from the rigging on a mast of one of the sailboats anchored nearby. I wander into the kitchen and start the coffee. What a wonderful aroma. It’ll wake me up for sure. I think I’ll have breakfast on the deck this morning.
I think I saw just the place in a 1993 issue of Country Living I was carrying out to the recycle box. Great view of the bay and slopes dotted with Monterey Pines. Nice.
“What do you think of this place…?” I ask.
“Nice, but not practical,” sighs Margaret.
How do I find the right balance between practical and want?
I know that this time I want a place that is not one-third home and two-thirds U-Haul storage locker. It would be nice to actually have room to park a car in our garage – our three-car garage. (Oh well, it’s not like we’re any different from the neighbours. Funny how we all park our cars in the rain so we can keep our clutter dry. And when the garage is full, we look for a bigger house.)
But, we’re making progress! Aah, how great it feels every time we get rid of another load of… stuff. I’m sure the folks at the recycle place cringe every time our old Aerostar comes rolling in the gate.
I also want a place that reflects who we are – and who I am. I am not a mechanic because my dad left me a big red toolbox chock-a-block full of sockets, ratchets, and… who knows what those things all are. I am not a landscaper because I have a power mower, gas weed trimmer, and a pump sprayer next to containers of mystery chemicals. I look at the About Me page of my blog and realize that the things I do and have relate very little to the description I’ve written about myself. (But I’m hopeful.)
And I want a place that doesn’t consume all my resource – finances, physical and psychological energies, time. I want a place where I look forward to hanging out, not a swirling black hole that I’m scared to get close to.
Okay, but these don’t really help in solving the practical problem of finding a new place. The real estate web site search pages don’t have check boxes for Black Hole or Self-realization or Clutter-shedding. Add to this the fact that I am a weak on-line shopper (I desperately need to poke, touch, experience a thing and its surroundings before I want to buy it) the step from wanting to having is a lo-o-ong one.
It would be nice if the perfect home just fell out of the sky, but the odds are against it. Wish me luck and send me hope.