Moving is not for the faint-of-heart

About a year ago, I decided to move from Illinois to Florida. I had no idea what I was getting myself into!

Initially, I thought I would simply sell my house, find another house, and go and live my life. Ha – Ha. Last April, I started clearing out my house, downsizing, packing and pitching. I was ready for a new beginning in a new house in a new town in a new state. My niece helped me pack what I wanted to take, and I rented a storage unit to make my house clutter-free for the sale. Exhausting but manageable. Then, the house sold. Quickly. I don’t think I was ready for that quick of a sale. And definitely not for the closing some four weeks later. And that is when the panic set in.

My open house was in mid June, last year. I knew the next week that a young couple was interested, but their house had to sell and they had not even put it on the market. I figured I had time. Their house was immediately put on the market and it sold within two weeks. I had four weeks to close on the sale. Maybe I should rephrase that. I had four weeks to empty out my house, find a house in Florida, and move. Moving belongings is one thing, but then there are doctors, dentists, bankers, businesses, and friends, don’t forget the friends and family that need to be aware of the move. In four weeks. And all the necessary appointments for the sale of the house.

I made a quick run to Florida to find a house. I knew where I wanted to be, just needed to find a house. And I left Florida thinking I had a house. But within the eight hours it took to cross the state line, I learned I lost the house to a cash buyer. Okay, I had house Number 2 as a back up. Three hours later I found that that house also went to a cash buyer. Okay. I went online, and selected house Number 3; sight unseen, I put in a bid. I needed a home to call my own. And I got it.

By now, I was in Illinois, and had only a few weeks until closing. A friend’s son is a mortgage broker, so he helped. Let me rephrase that. He started and completed the loan within a few weeks. Unheard of. But, it happened. By this time, I was working around the clock, the mortgage broker was working around the clock, and my niece was helping. I also had to find a mover. And I had no idea on that one.

I considered my grandson, but he was working and he lived in another town, and I had no idea what I was doing. So, friends of mine knew someone else who was moving out-of-state and told me about a mover. Okay. I had to do something. In between time, I could put everything in storage. There were two units by now. I contacted the mover, and finished up clearing out the house for the closing.

If you could have only seen me the day of the closing! I was a crazy lady. At the end, I neither had the boxes nor the will to continue packing, so I put everything I could into my car. Friends came over, and they packed their car with my belongings. I had only a few hours until closing. Finally, at the end, there was no room in either car, and I simply bagged the rest and put it ready for the garbage. (The new owners said I could do that). I had a full car, took a quick shower. Couldn’t find my hair dryer, couldn’t find my shoes, and did not have clean clothes. I went to close on my house, and we all laughed through the closing. I do have a sense of humor.

I was officially homeless. Friends gave me a room and food, and after two nights I left for Florida to close on the sight-unseen house. In between time, the cars’ contents were emptied into the storage units.

Oh-ho. The house had the square footage, but all the walls were pink. Pink. And there were little flowers on wallpaper that was unraveling on the walls. Carpet needed to be replaced. Cabinets were old. I wanted to cry. What did I get myself into?

I signed the papers, emptied my car, found a bank, turned on the electricity. And I went back to Illinois

Staying with the same friends, I returned to the storage units to pack the items that were emptied from the cars on the day I closed on my Illinois house. I had one week before the movers came. And, after seeing the movers, I realized that if I would have rented a truck to move myself, I had too much to put into the size of truck I would have selected. At least everything would be together.

The middle of September, I was on my way to my new house, my new town, my new state. I was very, very tired.

But, it doesn’t end there. I had walls that needed to be painted, floors that needed to be cleaned or replaced, furniture that needed to be bought  (I started with a blow-up bed and a lawn chair). Somehow, today enough is done for me to stop for a while and get back to my life. Writing. Yay!!! And being creative, chalk painting furniture, painting ceramics and learning stain glass techniques. I am here. I am where there is sun most days of the year. Where there is no snow to shovel. Where there is an entire state to explore. Change is good. I may not be an adventurer, but I am not faint-of-heart. Would I do it again? You betcha. There’s nothing like change and a challenge. For me, it’s better than feeling safe only because life shows familiarity.