The Long Game

It seems like this is going to be a long and restless summer for me. The switch to a later Seatowne trip coupled with our need to save some money means we won’t take a vacation until September. Send your pity right over this way. We did go to Florida in May and there will be fun things to do this summer, like day trips to the shore and get-togethers with family and friends, but that’s pretty much it until Labor Day weekend.

This appears to be the summer of waiting, of sitting in a fluorescent-lit, central air-cooled room without any windows. Our goal now is to sell our house and move and it feels like for the moment, all I can do is try to save money so that will be possible. I have made endless calculations of how much we can save by which date but all I can do is wait for my direct deposits to happen, transfer the agreed amounts into the appropriate accounts and watch the totals inch incrementally toward the time when it is feasible for us to start the next phase of our lives. I wish there were more I could do but so much is at the whims of the market.

There are smaller things we can do to improve the house and make it more attractive for buyers. I’ve done touch up painting and we’re looking into redoing the bathroom and pulling up the carpet. But as the summer burns I am feeling very restless. I’ve done pointless cleaning like scrub the laundry room. I’ve collected discarded boxes from work that will sit for months until we can pack something in them. I’ve been looking for second jobs so we can save up a little more money for the future and put ourselves in a better position.

I’ve done this because I am looking for anything I can do to accelerate this process. Things seem like they are moving so slowly, like a hot breeze blowing through a molasses July sky. Long ago I learned to defer gratification and for the most part I can look at the big picture and know that waiting will eventually have its rewards. But chalk it up to turning 40 that I feel more than ever that time is accelerating and I seem to be standing still. I need to move, and not just literally.

We would like a bigger house with a backyard and we can afford more house than we could when we bought this one. Our dilemma is how much we can sell our house for since we bought at the height of the bubble. It will be harder to move out than to move in. If we can’t get a good amount at sale, renting our present house is an option if we can turn a small profit and pay down that mortgage enough that we can sell it later. The stakes are high and I’m doing that thing I do where I feel like little decisions I make now will have big consequences down the road and it paralyzes me.

I will always look back on our house with fond memories but it has been eight years and it is time to move on. Like many people, I’d been afraid to change, but I’m not afraid anymore. If anything, I’m afraid of not changing, of someone telling me I’m stuck where I am. So this will be the summer of sitting tight and doing what I can and plotting out the next act. I know I must sound like a sad sack here and full of a little melodrama so thank you for indulging me. I can play the long game but sometimes I just get restless.