What was the list?

"Gym/work/trytocraminsomewriting/home/trytocraminmorewriting/bed" right now, and I don't see the end to the cycle. There are Harriet updates to write, Dark Avenger updates to write, blog entries to update and, at some point, my agent would like me to maybe finish the Dark Avenger novel.

Oh, and the gym.

Oh, and Adam.

I think I have to revise my priorities list.

Now we've decided to put the house on the market. Because we didn't have enough stress, we were missing aggrivation and our blood pressure was just far too low, we decided to sell, sell, sell!

Anyone want a house?

Actually, this has been a long time coming. The house is fine, but it lacks a certain oomph: say a wood burning fire place, or a third garage, a big tub, or any thoughtful design. It is a two story box. A two story box on a corner lot with mountain views, but it's still a box. I blame years of rented rooms and apartment living for clouding our judgement when we closed. Years of apartment living and the upstaris loft. Love that loft.

So every so often, I'll say "The next house will really reflect who we are. It'll have built-in bookcases" (and all the English majors just nodded right there).

Adam will counter with "And at least one fireplace."

"A decent kitchen."

"A surround-sound sufficent living room."

"And a master bathroom with a jetted tub and a separate shower."

"Steam shower."

"An established backyard with a great patio.'

"And trees!"

"A third garage with extra workspace."

"And a lift!"

And then we'll look around the box and sigh.

But we're finally doing something about it. Puttin' the box on the market later this spring with plans of moving inland a bit. Maybe we'll get totally crazy and move across the river. But first the house has to sell.

Sell. A minor sticking point. Real estate's dropping across the boards; the neighborhood's still new enough that we're surrounded by "built-to-suit" construction on three sides. There are three homes for sale, one for rent and one abandoned within view of the upstairs window.

Corner, oversized lot. One Neighbor. Mountain views.

We've got to whip this place into shape for showing: the living room's going to be painted some shade of neutral (gray? pink-gray? Eh?), walls have to be filled with art, all the rooms (and all the books) have to be organized, shades hung and that third, empty bedroom that's been doubling as tire storage for three years has to be repurposed into something like a sitting room or a guest room or something. I don't think the populace is very forgiving of bedroom tire storage.

However, as we talk about improvements, we're suddenly thinking the house might be too nice, that we might not want to move right away. Or we'd move into a house that would require an equal amount of refurbishing. It's exhausting.

Anyone want a house?