... I know, I've been absent. Again. Sorry about that.
So Mr. Pretties and I have been in the midst of the age old moving discussion for the past week. It's very hard (quite possibly the understatement of the year) to find a nice house (whole house, not a duplex, etc...) with enough bedrooms, a yard, in a good area, that accepts pets, and, the kicker, is affordable. The house we live in now is decent, it's 90 years old but has been totally renovated, so with the exception of our pocket door it has none of it's original character left, we have half as many bedrooms as required, and zero space since someone keeps filling it up with more old furniture (I wish Mr. Pretties would tone the whole pack rat thing down... geez...) and we live in a craptastic area. We've only stayed this long because we lurve our landlords whom we live with, they love our kids, and because they're antique dealers they satisfy my need for exposure to antiques on a weekly basis. The need to move has arised as BLP will be attending kindy next year (panic attack to ensue) and we want her to start in a decent school/area/house/etc... and we need to get on it now. I've mostly been avoiding the whole impending situation because of our love for our landlords and the great times we have in the backyard sipping ice cold beverlies while pricing antiques for the market on the weekends. It's like having insta-entertainment all summer, someone's always around to shoot the shi--- err... shiznit (?) with which is nice. And, when the house makes creepy noises, I mentally blame it on 'the people upstairs' which is just fab for my very frayed nerves. Believe me.
The only reason I'm willing to come out of my shell and discuss the situation with Mr. Pretties now is because... I think I've found the house.
It's on top of a hill, with a white picket fence (come. on.), a wooden/rope swing hanging from a very large old shady tree (That both the LPs and myself would enjoy. Immensly), an enormous front/back/side yard, a mini green house, apple trees, and, well, it's an 160 year old stone shaker meets colonial house that's right in our budget with four bedrooms, a 1950's stove, original wood work, 12 ft ceilings, and is in a fantastic little town by a river that sports numerous antique shops. Does that say me or what? Also, the town is called Paris (the first called was received by Alexander Graham Bell here), anyone who knows anything knows that anything called Paris must be fab. Okay, strike that, anything called Paris, with the exception of Paris Hilton, and that other man Paris. Otherwise, Paris is goooooodie. This wee town has won provincial awards for being the most adorable town, how sweet is that?!
Now. The problems.
Mr. Pretties works 45 minutes away from there (in good weather). Aunt Pretties lives 1hr 10minutes away from there (we've always lived within 30 minutes and visit weekly, which we still would). Our Dr who I absolutely will not switch is an hour and a half away, and we have three kids who frequent there (you know, vaccines, etc...). Mr. Pretties is the only driver. And... here's the real issue (okay my real issue)...
I'm. A. Friggen. Wuss.
We've always lived in a shared house (duplex, we don't actually have people live with us), someone else has always been on the next floor(s) so I was never really alone. Mr. Pretties works almost steady afternoons, meaning, he doesn't get home until 11pm (and wouldn't get home until nearly 12am) most weeks (god forbid he go back to working nights *shudders*). Which is fine. For normal people. But, as it turns out (are you ready for this?), I'm afraid of being left home alone with... ghosts. Yes, you read that right. I am afraid of ghosts. While looking at the interior photos of the house I spotted numerous 'orbs' and am figuring in a 160 year old house it's highly possible to have such things. We had a spirit in a house we lived in 5 years ago, a very negative one (as well as a small harmless child one). And guess what? We don't live there anymore. In addition to this, it has an old rubble basement where laundry would need to be taken care of. Which obviously means we'd be making weekly trips to the mall to obtain new clothing as I would not be going down there. Ever. So here I'd be, all alone in an old, unfamiliar (with no one to blame spooky sounds on) potentially haunted house, with Mr. Pretties 45 minutes away in a town that we are completely unfamiliar with and know no one in. Do you see how this could pose a slight problem? I thought maybe we could get a dog (Australian Shepherd/St. Bernard, anyone?) and that would help... I think we need to give the house a weeks trial and see how that goes, think they'd mind if we just bunked in?
So. That's where we're at. Mr. Pretties and I are going to go check it out on Sunday, potentially without the LPs and see what the interior is really like, atleast if it's crap the issue'll be settled right there. But if it's loverly like I think (hope) it will be, we'll be back into deep discussion again. All discussions have been halted until that time (By Mr. Pretties. I on the other hand like to beat things to death by discussing the same points over and over, changing my mind, and rechanging my mind, then throwing my hands in the air and proclaiming it too stressful to discuss without a beverly. And then repeat. Like shampoo.) To most people my issues wouldn't be a concern at all. To me, they're huge. If we're (I'm) stuck alone in a haunted house there would be a lot of pant crapage going on, and since I wouldn't be entering the basement of doom to do anything about that situation, it could get ugly. I am such a freak. But other than the potential shiznit-fest that could take place when I'm left to my lonesome, it's perfect.
In the words of Clever Girl 'Le Sigh'