At the beginning of the year, I transformed my daughter's old room into my new office. It's more than an office, really, it's become my ROOM.
MY room.
For the first time in 25 years, I have a space in my home that is exclusively mine. It's the room where I work. It's the room where I exercise. It's the room where I can play my guitar and my records without bothering anyone.
I know what you're thinking: man cave.
But I won't call it that because it's bright and sunny, and the room I worked in before was dark and gloomy. So it's more like a “man sunroom.”
It's really very special to me. I'm going to miss it when we go. And now going has a timeline.
Work has begun on our house. In four to five weeks, it'll be ready to put on the market. This means in eight weeks, give or take a day or two, we'll be living in Tennessee. So this is getting very real.
Right now, nothing is more real than the amount of work we have to do.
Packing our home is going to be an interesting journey. It will be three stages, each of which means something different. Each is a different goodbye.
For the next week, I'll be packing the most personal of my artifacts: my clothes and my personal care products, my hats, and all the art in our bedroom. (I love our bedroom art. It's all skulls and skeletons. So cool.)
In one week, everything in our bedroom, bathroom, and family room has to be packed. So while it's eight weeks till we move to Tennessee, it's one week until my whole living situation changes.
But it's not just my living situation.
All of those rooms are on the lowest floor of our three-story house. And in one week, those rooms are getting new paint and tile. So we have to move into my Man Sunroom.
And when the bottom floor is done, we'll move back down, and the work will begin on the top floor. In my Man Sunroom.
I've only been able to enjoy this room for five short months, but it will be the first thing to which I have to bid farewell. I am sad.
And Karen just reminded me that today is our anniversary of moving into this house.