Tuesday, April 22, 2008

You can dress a monkey in a tuxedo, but. . .

it's still a monkey. Dear Husband said it last night as we were finishing up tiling the kitchen floor. We both came to this realization last night independently, and when I tried to voice my feelings, that is, that we could fix up the house all we wanted, but we have outgrown the neighborhood, and that we cannot change. The shopping won't change, and there will still be the payday loan places and the crappy corner stores with cheap beer and wine for sale. And there will still be beat-up junker cars in people's driveways and unmown and unkempt houses.
When we signed the contracts to put the house on the market last night, it just felt right. Dear Realtor Friend made the process painless and again, we were so thankful for his calmness and his sense of humor and his great knowledge. What a guy.
Now we are in house-selling mode. All that is left to do is to paint the kitchen when the mortar dries. And my sore joints and muscles will be glad to watch the mortar dry till it's time to paint.

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