We may be moving, again. The odds are high that it’s going to happen. I don’t want to jinx it though, so I haven’t started packing and I haven’t given notice to my current landlord.

As soon as I have keys in hand all that will start, but not until then.  If something goes awry with the new place I would be scrambling to find a place that 1) I like, 2) I can afford, and 3) is likely to be long term.

The house we currently occupy will be put up for sale as soon as we tell the owners’ that we’re leaving.  That’s what started the chain of events that lead to the potential new home. We were told this place was going on the market so we started looking. Then they changed their minds. In the interval, the new home hunt had taken on a life of its own.

You see, after this I don’t want to have to move again for a long while, if ever! I’ve moved enough, thank you very much!  I counted them up and I’ve moved at least 22 times. Twice in the last 13 months, the last time in August!

That’s an average of one move every 3 years since I was born. Which I find kind of mind boggling since I stayed 8 years in one place, 10 in another, and 16 in yet another.  That means I barely had time to find my underwear and unpack the coffee maker before we packed up to move again the other times. Makes me tired just writing about it.

We should know in just about 2 weeks. In the mean time, we spend our mornings moving little paper cut outs of our furniture around scale drawings of the new rooms and deciding where to put the cat box.

Packing can wait.