Short-time.

They said it would happen.  Once you set a date to retire, you become a "Short-Timer."  What that really means is that you don't give a hoot about your work and you start counting the days.

I prefer to think of myself as "Future-focused."

Draw a line through it.

Do you ever make "to do" lists?  I do, all the time.  What I like most is crossing items off my lists once they're done.

So, with this transition, meaning, retiring from my job of the past 20+ years, selling my home, looking for a condo in KC, and, eventually moving back to Kansas City, I've created a list or two.  One should be enough, but that's another topic.

Today at breakfast, my pal, Dean, remarked that I was "crossing a lot off my list."  Meaning, I'm getting things done and making things happen.  That's a good thing, especially for Ms. Procrastination (me).

The closing for my house is scheduled for this Thursday.  I truly hope to cross that item off my list.

  

Sound of Music.

So I'm living in a nice duplex in a nice neighborhood.  It's temporary, maybe 6 months, maybe longer.  Just until I can find and buy a condo in Kansas City.

That's why I have lots of boxes and totes sitting in one half of the duplex's double garage (with a remote opener, woo hoo!).  Why should I unpack just to pack up everything again in a few months?  Not gonna happen.

But, oh boy, guess what I found (because I packed them in clear plastic tote boxes)?  My cds.  My music.  

Heaven is getting your fairly good stereo speakers and tuner hooked up, pouring vodka in an ice-cold glass, and sitting back and listening to songs I haven't heard in months (I've been taking my time packing).

Ah, how wonderful to hear Shawn Colvin's early songs in a way I hadn't grasped before.  She isn't even one of my favorites, but minds can be changed.  "Steady On."  Indeed.

Pause.

In the past couple of weeks, I've:

Been told my house had the highest radon reading they'd ever seen -- then it wasn't.

Moved to temporary housing (with dog).

Been to the vet (with dog) 3 times.

Spent hundreds of dollars (let's say thousand, at least) on movers, repairs, inspections (with more to come).

Cried.

Drank alcohol.  Lots.

Taken lovely walks along paths new to my dog and me (in the condo community we're living in for a few months).

Bought a new bed.

Said goodbye to neighbors I've known for nearly twenty years.

Lived without cable for a few days (not as hard as I thought it would be).

Unpacked as little as possible.

Met some lovely new neighbors.

Just keep going.  It's ok to take a breather.  

More to come.   

Letting Go.

The young (very) couple who want to buy my house came over today with their realtor.  They might buy some of my furniture.  Clearly, they are just starting out and this house is a perfect "starter" home.

Whether or not they buy my furniture, I will not be taking much of my furniture with me when I move to Kansas City.  I've certainly gotten my money's worth out of most of the pieces, having used them for nearly twenty years.  And somehow this move is about starting "fresh," which means I need to let go.  

Some of what I'm letting go:

Dean.

My job.

OPH.

My house.

My paycheck.

My boards and committees in the community.

My friends.

My routine.

My doctor, dentist, vet.

My beautiful public library.

Breakfast with Marilyn once a week.

What will fill the holes?

Pending.

So I leave town for a few days and look what happens:  I signed a contract to sell my home.  It's not a done deal, but so far, so good.

Things are really moving now. If this sale goes through, I need to find a temporary place to live as of August 1.  Today is June 24.  No worries!

Maybe it pays to go out of town and get away from my routine.  I stayed with dear friends, a wonderful, sweet dog slept with me every night, and I saw Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell in concert in the Boulder Flatirons.

Happy.  Grateful.

  

Escape.

Everything is fine, even though I have lost my temper and have had a couple of anxiety attacks.  It gets better.

Several showings at my house.  It looks good.  

I'm ready for a little break.  Tomorrow, I fly to Boulder, Colorado, where I used to live and where my best friend still lives.  Mountains. Dogs. Walks.  Cocktails.  Friends. Oh, did I mention that we have tickets to see Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell at Chautauqua?

When I return to Champaign in a few days, I'll keep on moving forward.  That's the way it's gonna be.