A Fork in the Road

After several months of staging my house before work every morning and a few tumbling-rumbling near misses wth interested buyers, the price on the place in St. Paul went up. I decided I can't stomach the potential higher mortgage. I visited a few St. Paul foreclosures with ratty yards, disturbing stains in the bathroom and close proximity to freeways and junkyards, but my poor hubby couldn't stomach them. He likes the pad in Farmington. Living a block from a junkyard and an abandoned marina sounds exciting to me, but I know it's not everyone's cup of tea.

I've come to yet another fork in the road. It's time to unpack my Metallica Japanese import boxed set and return it to its display spot in the curio cabinet. I rehung my snapshots of my late cat, Beaner the Bagel Thief and the photo of myself at Ozzfest '98. I stashed away the lame fake plants and scented candles used for staging. The house is mine again, replete with my metalhead memoribilia and comfortable blankets, no longer a blank canvas upon which prospective buyers can project their hopes and dreams.

Was putting the house up for sale a mistake? Of course not. I received wonderful comments from potential buyers about the house's southern exposure, open spaces, cute staging and cleanliness. This alone was worth the frenetic staging. And in the fall I have new graduate classes to look forward to at St. Mary's University, which is a whole heck of a lot more exciting to me than a new pad anyway. As much as we attempt to exert control over our futures, chance will always intervene, and sometimes with a blessing instead of a blow. For now at least, I will be safe and secure in my beloved Farmington.