Today I am wondering why the hysteria about selling my house.  It’s only been on the market for two weeks.  We show it constantly and have two really interested people.  One that is REALLY interested and is in the ‘talking’ stage. Nothing on paper yet.

We are constantly doing work on the house.  Since March, there have been workmen here everyday.  For a few weeks after the hip replacement, Jim had to take my commode off the toilet every time one of them wanted to use the bathroom.  Needless to say, it is a pain.  So far, here is a list of things we did specifically to sell the house;

1. New shower, tile tub surround, faucets, cabinetry in master bath.

2. New shower and tub in second bath.

3. New windows.

4. New carpeting upstairs.

5. New exterior paint with stucco repair and brick repointing.

And the coop de gras

6.New septic field, to the tune of $9,600.

I feel slightly sick every time I see that figure.  It could have been worse.  Ok, so maybe my hysteria is that the longer it takes to sell, the more things can pop up that need to be fixed.

Right now, the guy is in the finished basement with French drain waterproofing, sound proof music studio, and white berber carpeting, installing heating ducts.

Add to this, my anxiety about my mother.  She is no spring chicken, ok?  Neither am I.  She is on the long side of 81. I want to live closer to her as we both approach our dotage.   Come on!  All we need is that one live one, as my friend, Jo says.

My day is spent in continuous prayer.  Hounding God, like the widow and the unjust judge.  Come on, God, give us a break here!  Sell this place!!!!  Wringing my hands, crying like a shrew, shaking my fists at the ceiling every time another repair bill pops up.  A friend said God had better things to do that worry about my house.  That’s not what it says in the Bible, and what else does a believer have to go on than that?  It says He cares about the littlest sparrow.

Do  you want a real treat?  Go to Amazon.com and order Railroad Stories by Sholem Aleichem.  The twenty stories are what the play Fiddler on the Roof is loosely based on.  I love them so much because that is the kind of relationship I want to have with God.  A real, lay it all out there, no pious pretending kind of relationship.  It also says in the Bible that God wants us to be hot or cold, and boy, I guess I’ve got it down pat then!  Anyway, what this all has to do with my house selling is that I am feeling desperate about the whole thing, wanting to trust that whatever happens is for our benefit and I just need to continue to take one day at a time and not look too far ahead, avoid what ifs…

Also, I am so, so tired of cleaning this place.  We have the cleaning ladies come every Thursday.  When they leave, every towel, afghan, toilet paper, paper towel and tissue are folded into a flower.  I try to keep up with it.  The four dogs know better now than to venture too far from my sight. “NO PEEPEES’ is regular refrain around here.  When the phone rings for a showing, they know we are going to run out to the camper to hide.  One day Jim was in there alone when a buyer looked in the window and scared the hell out of him.  It is an adventure.

Tomorrow I am escaping.  Still not supposed to drive, I am throwing caution to the wind and taking myself to Cherry Hill to the home of my friend, Rita, where I will sit in comfort for three peaceful hours and weave.  It is a luxury I have not afforded myself in many weeks.  Now I need it.