Honestly. Selling a house is for the birds.
Although, maybe we could sell a birdhouse, I don't know.
What I do know, right now, is that our other house has yet to sell and so hubby and I are contemplating the options of "what the heck do we do if we can't sell the place?"
We have a plan. I don't like it. I don't want to execute it. But there is a plan.
I guess that's good.
Sometimes I wonder if there's a larger lesson here that I'm meant to be learning but am, instead, just missing. Like trust God. Got it. Check. Totally trusting.
But also? If He wanted to hurry things up a little? I'd be okay with that.
Probably not how I'm supposed to be thinking.
The new house was painted the ridiculous agreeable grey that we went through and painted the old house to try and get it to sell (narrator: it did not, in fact, help the house sell) (I guess I should add yet. There's always the possibility that tomorrow will be the day!) (But also, yeah, I don't know if I can actually drum up the faith to believe that at this point.)
ANYWAY.
Gray walls suck when you are prone to depression. Ask me how I know.
So as much as I really don't want to paint anything. (Gosh how I don't want to paint right now.) I think we might need to start doing something, if only for my mental health. Because it's like we're fleas on Eeyore's back here and, well, that's not super positive and cheerful.
As you'd imagine.
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