The stress of last week is starting to catch up with me. This constant moving is really beginning to suuuuuuck. Sailor Man and I are griping at each other because we’re tired. Puppy Dog has fully 75% less house to guard and is totally unsure of what to do with herself. And there’s boxes effen everywhere. But we are securely in the crappy rental house we will call home for the next year and a half.

We close on the house this afternoon so I spent most of yesterday clearing out/throwing out the final knick-knack crap and cleaning. I swear I must have swept up a garbage bag full of dust and dog hair. I have no idea where it came from. I make a point of cleaning like a maven once a week, so I’m flabbergasted to say the least. Maybe I’m just being hypercritical. I hate for anyone to think poorly of me when turning over a house. I always try to leave a house I sell in better shape than houses I move into (which I always, always, always have to clean top to bottom. WTF people?).

I’m slightly wincing over the fact that I forgot to sweep out the fireplace, but I’m content to let it go. If that’s the worst thing I leave behind these people should consider themselves lucky. I have been on the receiving end of some unusual items over the years including: molding paint cans, old tools, years old food in the fridge, mildewed shower curtains, clothes in closets, a stuffed cat, yes, a reall stuffed cat, an old woman’s lingerie collection from 1950, and a bizzare journal of a woman’s menstrual cycle over the course of her entire married life written by her husband-eeewwwww…… 

My present to the new owners of the house is hiding in the bottom drawer of the hall closet. I never placed anything in it during our ownership, so I don’t know why I even opened it, but I did, and what I found was horrifying: the entire collection of fugly wallpaper we spent six months of our lives stripping from the walls of the house. And there it sat, like a bad memory coming back to haunt me, all wrapped up in nice cellophane rolls waiting patiently to be used. I really scared the beejeeber out of Sailor Man when I screamed at the sight of it.

And I wouldn’t touch it even to throw it out.

I instead left a note to the new owners congratulating them on their find and reminding them that if they ever lament our choice in paint color for the walls, they should consider what could have been there instead.  

I do hope they are happy in their new home. 

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