February | 2014 | BulgingButtons

Tomorrow is February 3. That means that in five months it will be my birthday. The day that will end the 47 for 47 Challenge year. On that day I will have either met my goals or not. I don’t anticipate sitting at the computer on my birthday studying the list, alternately congratulating myself and beating myself up, although I suppose that could happen. Just knowing that the list is there for all to see and wonder at is pretty powerful motivation to get going on some of those items.

The whole reason I began blogging was for me to spout off about how wonderful I am (or not) and how great a job I was doing taking care of myself (or not). Sadly, it’s been more of the not, but happily, the blog has grown beyond that original seed of an idea, so even with my many screw ups there’s still something interesting to read from time to time. There must be. People keep coming back, and new readers find me and follow BulgingButtons every day. How amazing is that?

But I digress. It’s a talent of mine. Not digression per se, but procrastination. I’m taking the long way around telling you that I’m ready to get back up on that horse. I’m ready to eat my fruits and veggies and do my exercise. I’m ready to drink my water and hold myself accountable. I’m ready to try again.

I know, you’ve heard it all before. You are patient, bearing with me all this time. You’ve listened to me wax poetic about delicious meals and sedentary pursuits. You’ve endured my whiny musings on feeling low, sick, discouraged, and frustrated. You’ve nodded politely when I’ve gotten excited about some small victory or another, and through it all you’ve hung in there with me. You are warriors.

You tune in hoping for some news of progress, some positive report from the front line, but I offer you little. A scrap here, a morsel there. Still, you support me. You forgive me my sins. You remind me that I’m only human, after all. You offer your hugs and support and encouragement and laughter. You open your worlds to me, and what do I give you in return?

Hopefully you know that I give you a piece of myself. I write from the heart (how disgustingly cliche, I’m sorry). I don’t sugar coat, and I don’t worry much about hurt feelings. I do, but not in my writing, because I’m generally a pretty open-minded nice person. I’m not likely to say anything cutting or mean, so I don’t worry about censoring myself, after all, I know I’m not going to yell at you. I’m far more likely to yell at me.

I try to give you something to think about, or smile at. I try to stay positive and upbeat and focus on the good things in life. I try to offer my observations and experiences in a way that’s interesting or thought provoking. I’m not trying to tell anyone who to be or what to think, but I’m allowing you all a glimpse of who I am and what I think. That doesn’t sound like a significant contribution to the good of humankind, but right now it’s what I’ve got to offer, take it or leave it.

This was supposed to be the year of loving myself enough to do all that I needed to make my life as wonderful as possible. I’ve done a lot of positive things, but I have so much more to do. It’s a little like getting my house ready to sell. I want to fixate on tiny inconsequential things at the expense of the obvious. In terms of the house it’s simple, CLEAN UP. In terms of my life it’s simple too, LOSE WEIGHT.

I think I can lose 50 pounds in 5 months. That’s sane and safe and would go a long way toward improving my health and life. There, I’ve written it. That makes it real.

I’m cleaning up and resisting the temptation to do silly things like rearrange drawers. I’m also committing to eating better and moving more. That’s about as much as I can handle right now. I did go to the grocery store and purchase some delicious mandarins, salad, yogurt, carrots, hummus, orange juice, and water to wash it all down.

I also purchased some light beer. Hey, it’s the Super Bowl, and the sweetheart is in the kitchen cooking his yearly pot of gourmet chili. I better take my walk before the festivities begin. Besides, the 3rd isn’t until tomorrow.

It’s time to move on. This has been a great home for us, and we have it almost the way I want it, but it’s time to go.

When I first saw this house in the summer of 2011 I was newly divorced and needed a place to call home for me, the boy, and the dog. My budget was tight, and my list of must haves was firm. I needed a safe neighborhood. I needed a commute that wouldn’t kill me. I needed a certain amount of space. And I needed a pool. Yes, really. It’s hot here and I actually enjoy exercising in the water. To me, it’s worth it.

There were plenty of homes on the market in my price range, but they had needs too. They needed appliances. They needed new roofs. They needed new air conditioning units. They needed to be completely gutted because the previous owners left angry. I saw things I never thought I would see. I saw a kitchen where every door and drawer had been opened, including the oven door, and a can of paint had been splashed over every surface, inside and out, from ceiling to floor. I saw a house where every light fixture had been ripped down. I saw a house where the toilets had been smashed. I saw a house with a spray painted wall sharing the previous owner’s feeling toward a particular bank. I saw a house with multiple holes drilled through every single door, including cabinet doors. It was disheartening.

Then I saw my house listed. The picture online was pretty. We got in to see it right away. It was empty; bank owned. It was in a nice area, it was bright and open, and it had a pool. Yes, the backyard was tiny, but less to maintain. The house was more or less more in ready. I had seen enough. I knew this was the one and I had to move fast. Negotiations began, and we got the ball rolling. That was in August. I moved in the week before Christmas in a move that can be best described as a nightmare. My furniture and belongings were held hostage on the truck as the movers demanded cash, although I confirmed that they would accept credit. That was only part of the nightmare, but I’ve put it behind me. We settled in and began making it a home.

In the meantime I started dating my sweetheart. In fact I met him while I was house hunting. I had no idea that he and I would build a life together. This house was purchased for me, the boy, and the dog.

Things change. Last spring it became clear that it was silly for us to continue to maintain two households. He moved in with us, and we have all adjusted nicely. Especially the dog. Last summer we talked about the possibility of moving. I poked around and saw a couple of houses, but the pickings were slim and the idea of another move was daunting. I shelved the idea. We would make this house work for all of us. It was fine. In fact, it was nice. It is nice.

So why do I want to sell? The thing is, not too long ago the vacant lot on the other side of the street from me became a construction zone. Oh. It’s behind a block wall, and it wouldn’t be accessible from our street, but we would see it. Every day. It’s time to move.

The market has changed. My house is worth more. We have two incomes. It’s time.

The house is in good condition, but there are a few little things that need to be dealt with. We’re dealing with them. Today included a new towel bar, a new light fixture, the removal of a tv dish that we never used, and some yard work. A trip to Home Depot is in order, and some calking should make for a hot date night. I’m excited and nervous all at once. If you know anyone who needs a great house in a nice neighborhood with a view of a temporary construction site, please send them my way. Oh, and keep your fingers crossed for me.