With the economy the way it is, selling my house is not a viable possibility. Yeah, I know. The voice of reason keeps telling me that. Folks aren't moving into Central Florida. They are moving out. 50% of all houses for sale are in foreclosure. At least mine is paid for and at least for now, I can pay the taxes and household expenses without selling my soul to the Devil. I should be grateful even if I am understandably angry that as my house's value goes down the real estate taxes go up. I am grateful. Just restless. My life is tick tick ticking away and I want to enjoy it before it is tick tock gone.
I tell myself that moving to the beach would be a good compromise and it probably would be. I am going to look further into possibilities in North Florida. Close enough to drive back here and see my two daughters and their hubbies and three children whenever I want. Somewhere where the sea air helps my allergies. Somewhere with a different view. Ocean is good. I like sand between my toes. Even if visions of my hilly childhood home place continues to haunt my dreams.
So here's the plan: spruce up the back yard as soon as it is cool enough to work out there. Touch up paint the nicks and scratches inside. Clear out the garage and organize the storage room nearby. Watch the market. Hope that change is on the horizon.
On another tack, I hope to complete my dragon book before another birthday rolls around. I've got a lot to do. So, ttfn. As they say, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Here I go.