Today we signed all that paperwork you sign when you are about to put up a Realtor's sign in front of your house. Yes, funny to think it, but that big green house in Dallas is still ours, even though we no longer sleep there or cook there. It is now all various shades of beige, neutralized for the next couple who walks in, so they can picture making it their own, and maybe give us lots of money for it. I did leave the crayon-red room crayon-red, because it was too beautiful that way to paint over so soon, and because red is really hard to cover with beige.
Our real estate agent Yolanda was impressed. She saw it at its worst last fall and helped us set a tentative price; before she came over Friday, she tried to prepare us for a possible down-pricing as the market keeps slipping, I guess, but when she saw it she decided to keep the starting price where we first decided it would be. It definitely confirmed our conviction, formed long ago, that it would be a much more attractive house with us out of it.
It still makes me sad. I loved that house, and especially the things I thought I would do with it 10 years ago, but never did. Now I am in a much smaller house with all kinds of Ikea ideas about what I want to do with it; we'll see. But I hope that now that I live here full-time, I'll dive right into what I want to do most, even before I paint over the depressing Spanish Moss green walls: Fill it with people once every week or two (it won't take many to fill it) and feed them with the non-foodie food I know how to make, and thus, and in many other ways, fulfill the law of Christ.
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