Today marks the end of the "make it so Dad can live here" extravaganza. He is O-fficially moved in. (Well, there's a bit more stuff to bring from his other house tomorrow, but he's staying here tonight and his bedroom and living area are set up, so even he considers that he lives here now.)
And now, we begin the joy of getting the house prepped for sale and then, please Jesus, selling it quickly. (Not that we're in a rush, mind you, but selling a house has never been a fun or easy process in our family so I approach it with great gobs of dread. And also strange optimism that maybe this time it won't be worse than ...whatever the most horrible thing you can imagine is.)
In the last week, we have have filled 3 30-yard dumpsters with various and sundry crap from the basement. Donated at least 3, probably 4, minivan (with no middle row seats in) stuffed to the gunnels, and still the basement of the addition is going to be basically full. The long-term project will be to whittle that down to less overwhelming, but at least he fits in the space we built for him, which he obviously would not have if we hadn't done the winnowing.
Stress is the name of the game right now.
So tomorrow is the last bit of movers moving things.
Thursday we meet with the realtor in the morning and the flooring guy in the afternoon.
Friday the cleaners come to do the move out deep clean.
I have a call in with a handyman company that does painting as well as deck repairs (both needed), we need to schedule a power wash of the outside, get new faux shutters for the outside, get the gutters cleaned...all that jazz.
Good times. Good times.
I am, however, glad that at I am not the one moving this time. And honestly, Dad's rolling with it pretty well. So good on him. The boys are elated to have him here, as are the dogs. So all's well that ends.
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