Signed in a Dash.

Today we signed the papers. It was a big stack, but I was prepared and almost expecting it to be twice as big. Managed to do it on my lunch time, even with the falafels that Papa Seed brought when he picked me up. We demolished those, then headed down to where we handed a very young woman our Passports, Driver's Licenses and the biggest check that has every featured either of our names. Quickly, our lives changed.

Last night it started to hit finally. Of course it has hit before, but it was different last night. More real, more astounding.

This morning our shower started to leak big time. Yesterday our basement flooded (again) and our kitchen faucet came off. Everyone asks if we will miss this house because for the last eight years we have said how much we love our neighborhood, but I will not miss this home. Not anytime soon. There are some good and some great times left behind here, but I'm so wanting to move on.

Add to the list of things I never thought I'd do an email to a local vintage record store to see about their policies and pricing for vinyl. Found out they do house-calls for large collections. I easily qualify as having a large collection. I think I'll pull out a few 100 or so favorites I've never found on CD and let go. I might even make enough to pay for Mancub's Xbox. Talk about passing the torch. I don't think I have enough time left on earth to revisit listening to each of my albums again, even if I quit my job. Besides, I want to spend time putting in a claw foot bathtub, building an Earth Oven, listening to urban coyote howls, making art, and walking under trees. I'm okay knowing some young one is buying my old copy of Bow Wow Wow. I'm keeping the first solo Sarah Dash however, just in case of emergencies. Some longings can't be healed by coyotes, even if they are much rarer these days.