We then put it on the market, and a week later it sold. (It wasn’t quite that simple: there were negotiations, a home inspection, an issue with the insulation in the attic, wringing of hands, rolling of eyes, and writing of cheques to guys in Haz-mat suits.)
But as of April 25th, it will officially belong to somebody else. I have kind of mixed feelings about it. The house was nothing fancy, just your basic, down-to-earth working class house. Still, it suited me…I always felt that that house and I had a lot in common, including being of the same vintage. But once I started packing and moving and fixing it up and getting out, I just wanted someone to buy it so I could get the whole thing over with.
Anyway. It was a good house and I was happy there. I hope the new people are happy in it too. I wonder if I’m the only one who thinks of houses as having a kind of karma or character. Like…if you move into a house in which a miserable family lived, and where there was violence and abuse, I wonder if that energy somehow lingers in the house. (I’m tempted to delete that, because it sounds crazy. But even if I don’t *think* it’s true, I *feel* that it is. So I’m leaving it.)