We are sort of getting the condo cleaned up a little bit to show it this afternoon. I know this, because Ethel put the fancy bedclothes on the bed. (seen here from the office in the loft).
Now, we haven’t put the house on the market yet – in fact, we weren’t planning on doing so until after we moved, because of the difficulty of selling a home while living and working full time in the home, and then of course there is the eternal problem of what to do with the dogs* while showing the place.
But we have a friend who is about to come into some money; she also needs a place to live beginning August 30th – which, if you’re playing along at home, you will note is also the projected date for us to move into the Dog House.
While we were in Mexico, our house sitters had an open house, and Shannon came to it; she remarked how much she liked the place, and our sitters told her that we were going to be selling it at the end of the summer. So she approached us.
Hmmm…perfect timing, no hassle with showing or concerns about pricing, and no realtors’ fees. Hard to find a problem there.
So she’s coming over this afternoon; she didn’t see the whole place while she was here.
We already know that she doesn’t like the other things that she’s seen on the market. So who knows? This might just work. And it might not. I’m not running my life.
Of course, if selling it to her means moving out and spending some weeks in the southern Baja, or up in northern British Columbia, where’s the downside? 🙂 Especially if I’m retired at the time.
Speaking of retirement: no update. They came back to me after I sent the letter and allowed as to how they wanted me to stay longer, for some reason. I let them know that I was willing to accommodate any reasonable request; they’ve been overpaying me for six years. I owe ’em. So they’re doing their thinking now; bossman said that he’d talk to me today or Monday. It’s entirely possible that I’ll be here – perhaps in a part-time capacity – for some time, or they might get mad at me and throw me out on Monday. I’m not running my life.
Speaking of not running my life – I just happened to run into my gynecologist today. She told me to give the testosterone tablets time. (I could probably write a song about that). Since the darn things are already in my rear end, it’s not like I was about to go in with a can opener and take ’em out, so “giving ’em time” is the default behavior.
*there is ALWAYS the eternal problem of dogs, which is what makes it eternal. We’re moving because of the dogs, and the dogs make it harder to move.
Somebody remind me why we have dogs again?