Two Chairs

Here's another reason.

We are focused on removing clutter as we prepare to put the house on the market.

We had two big stuffed chairs that were handed down to us from Carol's parents. Our kids used to sit in them when they visited. I have created a self-imposed moratorium on visitors - including family - because my dream of one last get together in dignity was shattered.

The dream was to get the inside of the house fixed up so I could feel proud when the kids came over for the first time in decades, so I could say "Look - finally - not a shithole." I was robbed of that opportunity by Covid related bullshit.

So I am ashamed; I don't want anyone else ever in this house again before we dump it on some poor, unsuspecting rube. The fucking place haunts me as the ultimate expression of failure.

I listed the chairs in craigslist a while ago. $60 each, two for $100. Zero response. So we decided fuck it, let's just give the motherfuckers away. I listed them for free. Zero response. I couldn't fucking believe it.

It has been weeks. Suddenly we get a call on Sunday - somebody right here in town. They bopped over, dragged the chairs out of here and that was that.

Except I became melancholy. Surprisingly. Two big holes where the chairs used to be. Looks odd.

But beyond that I was thinking "Here we go. This is real. We are going to sell this place."

Of course it could mean nothing. We could put the house on the market and get laughed at. But we could sell it. And those chairs represent a concrete step towards getting this house off of our backs.

We have done a hell of a lot of work already but a lot of it was in the basement, so we don't see the results. Got a lot of trash out of the house but, again, that's just housecleaning. 

The chairs feel like a piece of our lives has been removed. And the empty spaces are right in front of us. Unavoidable.

We have lived here for 36 years. 16 of those years with our sons. There is a lot of emotional baggage connected with this place.

Selling a home is one of those momentous events in a life. I get it. We really don't want to sell this joint - too much effort, too many memories. We are comfortable here.

But I am already having trouble getting up and down the stairs because of my knee. And we have no choice. I will never retire with this mortgage hanging over my head. Not retiring is not an option.

We have a deadline. Gonna put the place on the market in September. That has us moving. Got a few more big things to get done. A lot of small, annoying shit. But we will get it done. No choice.

We got rid of two chairs.

But not the emotional baggage attached.