And then reality bites hard and suddenly it's all very, very real.
I am now sporting a wonderful, beautiful ring on my appropriate finger on my left hand. We're not just moving home, moving together and moving on, we're getting married. Which whilst being incredibly wonderful also brings its own challenges, persuading the kids, in particular, that this doesn't change the relationships they have with their 'other' parents, that moving to another town isn't the end of their lives, that there is life outside of the small big of the world in which they currently reside.
And as of right now, today, immediately, my house is on the market, available for sale.
That brings its own interesting challenges, not least is persuading the kids that they really do have to put their dirty undies in the washing basket and not leave them in a heap on the floor, that they should rinse their spit out of the sink and put their dirty dishes IN the dishwasher and not just in the vague vicinity of it.
I (actually we all do but you know how that's going to work out) have to keep the house clean, tidy, neat and viewable. Which isn't necessarily a bad things because suddenly I have a minimalist home that is a pleasure to live in but unfortunately we can't find anything we need or want (that isn't already in every day use) because the garage is piled with boxes of things we thought were excess to requirements so the house could be presented as a buyers dream and not the place that we're all trying to leave behind.
And then the final nail in the enthusiasts coffin.
The paperwork. I have already
All I want to do is sell the house that I own (along with the bank) but the only thing they haven't asked me yet is my inside leg measurement and the date of birth of my first grandchild.
But I'm sure that's coming.
