During the last week of March, I was given one day’s notice that the appraisal would be (finally) be happening. Concurrently, I had plumbers scheduled to clean the sewer line, and a roofer lined up…if ever the rain would stop for two days in a row.

But the closing has long been scheduled for April 15 – I had been awaiting the appraisal to start packing…but I ran out of time. All of my non-house tools (read: the good ones) are now in the shop at work. If only I knew what was where in the many boxes, bins and chests…a project for later this month, perhaps.

And my Petite Roubo and Anarchist’s Tool Chest are also at work (thank you Christopher Schwarz for your help in moving them).

This is no way to live.

Thank the gods that I “passed” the appraisal; I’d have been apoplectic had I to move them right back home.

The sewer is clean (relatively speaking), and the work that should eventually be done needn’t be done immediately – so the buyers are saving up for that (I presume…and it will be a lot less costly than expected – whew!).

The roof is only half-done; we’ve had torrential rain all week. It’s supposed to be clear on Saturday and Sunday, so (I hope) the roofers will return to finish. But the movers are showing up Saturday morning. I hope the ladders won’t be in their way.

So every night since the appraisal, I’ve been frantically packing and sorting all my stuff  …wow do I have a lot of stuff crap. (Thank you Michele Griegel-McCord for your help with that…and for storing my pictures…and for making me realize it’s OK to put non-like things in the same box – though I’m still having trouble with that one.)

So…this is maybe one-sixth of the books packed.

I’m be staying for at least six weeks at a friend’s house that is on the market, and has been empty for a while. So I rented a panel van and took a few (small) furniture pieces over there last night to “stage” the house and make it look more homey/less vacant. (Thank you David Manktelow for your help with that.)

And, I’m going to replace some missing trim work and a few other fixes while I’m there (because I am very bad at doing nothing). But if that house is under contact by June 15, I’ll have to find a new temporary home and move the stuff (and myself and the cats) again by the end of the month (or before her closing – whichever comes first).

The bulk of my stuff will be loaded onto a truck, where it will stay for the near future. (The non-regulated temps will be a good test of my wood choices, wood prep and joinery. I hope to not be sharing inadvertent furniture-explosion tests with you in a few months.)

Sure wish I’d not packed quite all of the silverware. Oops.

So my hope is that in the next two weeks I can find the place I want to buy (and die in, so that I never have to go through this again). That would give me a month to get the inspection done, finances sorted, etc.

But I don’t expect that will happen. Little else recently has, after all, gone what I’d call smoothly.

So I made a point of putting my tent and sleeping bag in the back of my car, just in case I’m truly homeless in six weeks. The cats? Well, I’ll guess they’d have to learn to hunt.

I’m off work tomorrow to finish packing…and to herd the cats into the hated carriers to move them. Then, I’m calling 1-800-got-junk. I’ve done as much hithering and yonning to donate stuff as I can stand, and none of the charities that do pick-up are interested in 40 half-used gallon cans of paint or three broken sawhorses.

But of course, until we all sign the closing documents (next Wednesday), I suppose things could still go ass over teakettle.

So fingers crossed a) it stops raining b) my cats don’t scratch me and leave me to bleed out c) no one develops crippling carpel tunnel syndrome (until after 2 p.m. Wednesday) d) I find the “perfect” home and shop in the next two weeks.

Oh – and e) I get over this painful seller’s remorse soon. I almost never cry. But I’ve wept every night for the last week. Sure, it might have something to do with the large number of large checks I’ve had to write lately. But more likely, it’s the saying goodbye to the first (and so far only) house I’ve ever owned. I’m looking forward to tears of joy when I walk into the next one.