divine angst

So Denise caught my reference yesterday: we do have a contract on our house. Things happened absurdly fast, in fact; it was only on the market for a week. We’re pretty happy with the deal, if only because it’s going to close FAST, and we’ll be rid of the mortgage payment a month sooner than we thought might be the case.

Still, fast might be good, but it’s also really stressful. In addition to the nickel-and-dime repairs we have to have taken care of, we have to PACK. And pack fast. We’ve got about three weeks from today to consolidate our stuff into boxes, sell or donate the furniture we’re not taking with us, and move into a new place. We’ve already found a short-term apartment, though we haven’t signed anything (gotta wait for that option to expire). We’ll have to round up all our friends for a quickie move, too.

The double move is a good thing—getting out of our house now will save us a lot of money through the rest of the summer. We might even be able to sell one of our cars, leaving only the one WITHOUT a payment, saving us even MORE money (particularly with the cost of gas). Saving money is definitely a Good Thing, but suddenly my life feels like one of those funhouse attractions—the floor is going up and down and the walls are spinning and I feel sort of nauseous. It’s all happening so very, very quickly.

I’m a little nervous, to say the least. I know we’ll manage—after all, we don’t have a lot of stuff to move and reducing our pile NOW is better than trying to figure it out while moving interstate. The car thing won’t be an issue, either, though I won’t be able to go home for lunch anymore. No, it’s just nervewracking. Stomach-churning stuff, this.