Last Time....

I am not normal.

I know that I'm not normal and I'm okay with it. 

But sometimes I realize how very not normal I am. 

Last week I had to go by the townhouse a few times. Every time I go to the townhouse for something I think, "This is the last time I will be here" and then of course it's not the last time. So then the next time I go I think, "This is the last time I will be here."

I think Sunday really was the last time I will be there. We dropped off the set of keys we had kept and the garage door opener. If everything goes the way it's supposed to go by the end of the day Wednesday there will be a new owner. And her name is Katie. Not my Katie, but still Katie. Patty (our realtor and friend) and I both felt like it was kind of a sign when she put in an offer. A feeling of rightness. 

I know it's totally just a random coincidence, but people love patterns and signs and so I felt like it was a good sign. 

And fingers crossed it was. Two more days and we should be done. 

And Sunday should have been the last time I will be in the townhouse. 

And my reaction to that is, "Fucking Finally."

Because I am done with it. And once I'm done with something I'm really over it. As soon as we closed on the new place and moved out of the townhouse it became a thing I have to deal with. And I don't want to deal with it anymore. I don't live there. I don't want to live there. I don't want to deal with anything about it anymore. Every time I had to go over there to take care of something, the flooring, the windows, the cleaning crew, the busted furnace, I could feel the tinge of resentment. 

There were two things that came up in the inspections that needed to be taken care of and I was so worried that she would walk away from the deal, or not want to close until they were done. Brent and I were like, We will pay to have them taken care of. You can take care of them or not, don't care, but we will totally write the check. Just close on the house. 

Which is what she ended up doing. Plus asking for a little more for her trouble. 

What. Ever. It's not something we would have done. We would have asked to cover the repairs and that's it. Maybe asked for a contingency percentage to be held out just incase they went over the estimate when working but that money would have only been tapped by us if it was needed. But I also didn't care that much that she asked for money to sooth her inconvenience (really to replace the carpet in the basement, who are we kidding?) It wasn't enough to overrule the whole "I want to be done" feeling from me and the whole "Get me the balance of the money" from Brent.

For those of you keeping score at home we are two days away from living in the new house for a month. 

That's how quickly everything has gone. Patty is outstanding at her job. Put the house on the market the week of a big rate hike from Fed, as prices started to cool, and STILL we sold within a week for what we asked, with a two week close. BOOM!

And yet, I'm still just over having to deal with the townhouse. I want it to be someone else's house now. I don't want two houses. I have a new house. I have stuff to do here. Lots of stuff. I have other things we are dealing with and I'm just over the townhouse. 

That we lived in for over 20 years. 
That we pretty much raised our kid in.
The house that either one of us lived in the longest in our entire lives.
The house that I was having a hard time wrapping my head around not living in just two months ago.

Done. Thank you, next.

That's the not normal part of my personality. I'm that way with everything. If I decide I'm over something I'm over it. It works that way with people too. Brent says it's why he doesn't sleep at night. He's kidding, he sleeps great. But he has known me long enough to know that it's true. When I'm over it, I'm over it. Sport's teams, food items, places, companies, people. Once I move on I'm gone. 

Some things I don't get over. I hold special places for them. I don't think I'll ever get over not being able to eat some of the foods that I can't eat anymore. But I think that's because I didn't make the choice to stop. There are people that I haven't seen in decades that I still miss. But that's because I didn't want to lose them out of my life. 

But if I make the choice? Done. 

So yesterday I posted some pictures of the last visit to the townhouse. The views out of the upstairs windows, which I will miss being able to see the coastal range and the West Hills depending on which side of the house I was looking out. But what I feel like is that I wish I had a higher space here to get those views back, though it's kind of hard to have high views and no stairs so...

But anyway...

I took the photos as a last visit thing. And posted that it should be the last time I am in the townhouse. And everyone responded with hearts and comfort posts.  

I told Brent clearly my FUCKING FINALLY should have been written out. 

It wasn't a sad post. It was a good bye final post. And it was a good house for us when we bought it. And it served its purpose and I hope Katie has many happy years there. But...

I'm not sad about leaving it. I'm looking forward to waking up Thursday morning knowing that someone else owns it and I'm done.

I'm not normal. 

I'm okay with that.