Yesterday was the day I was supposed to post. I want to commit to writing something intelligent at least once a week, and had decided Tuesday was the day. I had started on an idea about doubt and the roll it plays in faith. However, life sometimes has other plans. Rather than write about doubt, I got thrown into a big pile of it.
Things were moving along swiftly with the home sale. The inspection went well, and the buyers had little concern for the small details and even some of the bigger ones that were found. They are anxious to finally own a home. Suddenly I was looking at being out late next week, and that left a lot of details to work out quickly. There were reservations to be made for a moving pod, movers, and pet-friendly hotels. I was busy on the phone, excited and scared all at the same time. Then out of the blue, it all came to a grinding halt. I thought a home was worth what someone was willing to pay, however, banks utimately control the price when they are lending the cash. The bank says my price is too high, regardless of the fact that there are 4 people who are willing to pay that price.
Now what? It gets frustrating and lately my tolerance level has been low. My dating life had alraedy played out like Charlie Brown, Lucy, and that football. I was tired of ending up flat on my back, gasping for air, so stopped kicking a long time ago. Then I felt that way with my job, too. Time and again I thought I had figured a way out, only to have it yanked away. So now with this, there’s that familiar frustration that bubbles up quickly. Here again I feel like my dream is just within reach, and wham… not so fast. When is that football going to stay in place?
However, I keep reminding myself that up to this point everything has gone so smoothly, that a bump or two in the road should be expected. If I have to drop my price, which will hurt badly, I will lose 2 years of writing time. But if I’m successful, those years might not be needed anyway. It means a used car, and continuing to use my barely functioning computer. BUT, it’s not the end of my dream. I recently told a friend that it’s good to be hungry as a writer. Knowing the time is shorter, might push me harder. I can’t let this get me down. I need to keep my frustration in check, as that can spiral into even darker feelings.
The truth is, there’s a slim chance I could still get what the market will support. I mean, we had 4 offers after two broker opens, and never even got to an actual open house. We’re pursuing the possibilities. So today, rather than worry, I packed. I might be leaving LA next week. Maybe not. Either way, I’m just going to have to roll with it.
Perhaps next week I’ll have something to say about doubt.