I want to sell this house. Badly.
Much as I love our little home, I'm tired of the constant reminder while I'm here and I really don't want to endure another winter driving up and down that road Craig died on. I barely survived last winter, don't know if I'd make it through another one.
Problem is, I have no money to buy a new house.
And, currently, no job.
I could rent, but I so hate 'living in transition'. As in, hey, this is not really my house and never will be, but lets pretend for the time being.
Craig and I did this for a couple years with our crappy apartment (500 square feet of less-than-fun accommodations) and lets just say we practically danced down the steps when we finally moved out of there.
Oh, and that reminds me, did I mention how much I can't stand moving? Too much work. All the boxes and the dust and the newspaper and bubble wrap and the lifting and breaking your back and the trying to find which accursed box your toothbrush is in... ugh. No thanks. Why haven't they invented the teleport yet? It would totally be worth it for moving alone.
For now, the goal is just to get out of here. I would like to have a nice home, a real home. Completely new, totally fresh, without any memories attached.
Time to start buying those lottery tickets, I guess.