My ex moved out of the house we lived in for the past eight years last Saturday. I’ve known since he said he wanted to move out the day would be rough. It was.
Splitting things up was easy enough. We never made any joint purchases, so everything is either his or mine–even the dogs. He took Tico, I’m keeping Toodles.
When he moved in, I had everything I needed. Much of the furniture was what I’d call late 20th Century Garage Sale. None of it matched, but it was mine. He moved in with little more than the clothes on his back. But then his mother passed away, and his father downsized, flooding our home with a lot of really nice furniture. Most of mine left the way it came in–via garage sales. Same with my ragtag collection of dishes and cookware.
Now that he’s out, I see what’s left. There’s not much, and a lot of it will go at yet another garage sale–this one scheduled for Saturday. Some will go in the trash or to Goodwill. My primary task between now and Saturday is sorting stuff into the appropriate keep, toss, donate, or sell pile.
I have my gorgeous leather sectional, two flat screen TVs, a king-sized bed, a set of wicker furniture destined for the garage sale, a kitchen table with six chairs, a coffee table, two end tables, and a couple of pole lamps. That’s it. Oh–and that bed is really just a mattress, box springs, and frame.
In the kitchen I have four plates, four bowls, and four coffee cups–none of which match. My ex left me a sauce pan and a small skillet to use until I buy a set. I’m going to need a gas grill, too.
After the truck pulled away, I looked around my practically empty house through tear-filled eyes. In that moment I knew moving was the right thing to do. I don’t want to live here anymore.
Fortunately, I had mostly figured this out two months ago. I’m supposed to close on my new house Friday. Yesterday I texted my realtor to see if there was any way to move it up. I can’t get out of this house soon enough.
Whether I close Friday or earlier, I won’t be able to move in until the end of the month. After the closing, half a dozen contractors will work for about two weeks painting, replacing flooring, and other stuff before I can move in.
Starting over doesn’t bother me a bit. The new house is my third, but will be the first that I move into without a partner. Looking forward to creating a space that will be entirely my own makes this transition time bearable. In a few short weeks, Toodles and I will be settling into our new normal in…
My Glass House