Monday, September 7, 2020

ROBBLOG # 853- A House Isn't Always a Home


Well My Dears, it's been a few weeks- hasn't it, since a new ROBBLOG appeared.

I have an excuse.
We all have excuses but mine is a fairly good one.

The Mister and I are on the move...again.
Our wonderful home on this wonderful Island called Vancouver Island has been sold.
~take a moment to let it settle in~

Most of our friends are aware of our decision.
It is the new, new adventures of The Island Boyz. The last adventure of moving to this Island- three years ago this past August 23rd, is still fresh in our minds but we are moving on.
Moving forward.
Movin' on up to the "east side"...

We are putting down new roots again and NO we are not going back to Ontario although we have been telling the busy-bodies in our neighbourhood that that is exactly what we are doing. We don't talk to the busy-bodies really, they just overhear what we are saying to other neighbours and sometimes the neighbours and I play a game and we talk a wee bit louder so they can hear the facts.
The wrong facts.
Usually they are hiding behind a bush or in the semi-darkness of an open garage door to hear our little impromptu scene.
I kid you not!
This is what they do- especially the doorknob that lives opposite us.

A few days ago another neighbour gleefully told yet another neighbour that we had sold and even knew where we were moving and that it was a done deal.
It was not.
I was sitting right in the van in our drive and heard all this speculation.
It pisses me off.
Why didn't they walk across the street and ask us.
In this neighbourhood it's easier to "suppose".

It is one of the reasons we are leaving. 
Too much gossip.
Too much complaining.
Too much of the witch queen opposite with her gaping garage door open from morning to night.
Too much partying from a couple of houses of 30 somethings who lack respect for us more mature folks.

So I guess you get the reason why we are packing up and moving on.
Oh, I forgot to say I was also told to "Fuck Off" while standing in my own yard listening to the "high school" talk and fuck this, fuck that language coming from an outside party across the way from our back yard.

That party and the ensuing "personal direction" I was told to take was the straw that bent the poor camel's back.

We texted our real estate agent that night and when he called the following morning I said-
"Get us out of here!"
Those were my exact words.

A simulation of the Mister and I
An artistic simulation of The Mister and I

The surprise in all this?
It took only two weeks from that call to be where we are now.
Our house is sold- in two days.
We have bought new again after looking at 10 "pre-used" homes over the past months.
It's been a whirlwind!

When I said a few lines above- "we are movin' on up to the east side"- we are.
The east side is the home of the "elites" or so we've been told.
Funny how that word has crept into our federal politics recently. Now we are moving up to an east side, mountainous neighbourhood where we apparently are "elite" as well.
I can agree with that only because we have moved on up the real estate scale too.
~puff, puff~

Our agent told us from the start that "this is where we needed to be" on the Island and soon there we will be.
I am happy.
The Mister is happy.
We hope we will love this house.

The house we will leave in a few weeks has been nice.
I like it.
I like it a lot.
We put our heart and soul and design into this house but I never, ever fell in love with it- not like our Pine Tree House back in Old Home in Orillia, Ontario.

I already have "pangs in my heart" when I walk into this nearly completed new house.
I believe I love it already and our view!!
Holy shit, I mean!
A lake.
Several mountains.
The Ocean.
A gulf island- Saltspring, plus a view back to the mainland around Grouse Mountain.

It's a dream come true.

It's been a whirlwind these past 14 days.
It's been stressful too.
My shorts are fitting much looser these days.
My sleep has been interrupted as has the husbands.
It's been hard to turn the brain off.

So Kids, that's my excuse.
A change once again and perhaps this time the last until I stand in front of the Pearly Gates and tell old St. Peter-

"Pete, it's been a Hell of a ride!!"