This Life Is Under Construction

Pardon our mess, we are under construction. Today, our house ceased to be ours mentally, as our real estate arrived and began rolling off a long list of changes to make, WITHIN THE NEXT 4 DAYS, before our first open house on Sunday. I trust her implicity, but as I paint and re-arrange and start boxing up personal items, the finality of all of this hits hard.

Of all the superstitions a person could load into her weight-of-the-world suitcase of emotional baggage, the number 13 is the one that gives me the biggest willies. Monday is our 13th wedding anniversary, and it's gonna' be a doozy. My husband will be gone all week in Las Vegas, I'll be cooped up in a cabin in Mt. Bachelor with the pups, and the realtor will be tromping folks in and out of our lives/house. We'll be selling our most prized possession, our only asset, to pay off our debts. I'm not thrilled.

This will be my next to last posting for two weeks, while we get this process underway. The last posting will be a short story I wrote for a friend's dinner party, when we were given the instructions to "bring a piece of chocolate with a story."

P.S. If any of my editors are reading this, don't worry. Of course I'm already working on the next book! Uh huh.