I really haven’t had much to say.

The morning begins with making Paul’s coffee, breakfast, and lunch and rushing him off to work. Then … Craig’s list. Then, multiple calls. There’s some rushed homeschooling without any heart in it. Then, begin a route to view these miserable places that have no welcome in them. A stop at the park to let the kids run and yell while I view more places from my phone. More calls. More views. Then, dejection and depression.

Finally, rousing myself up, I make a dinner.

There’s a little more chatter and laughter over dinner. Then … escape into a movie.

I’ve never been really tempted by movies much before. We’ve always done netflix — one movie at a time — which limited us to a movie every three or four days. The rest of the nights were filled with talking, reading, reading aloud, or writing.

I liked this. It felt healthier.

The equivalent of middle-age spread is occurring to my brain when I watch television every night. But I don’t care. I just want to dive into someone else’s life for awhile. I’m allowing my brain’s stomach to spread, hips to widen, and general overall weight-gain to thicken because I just don’t care. I don’t have enough willpower to exercise it into shape.

Finally, there was hope. Paul settled on a lovely little place around the corner from First Street rapids, where he learned his kayak roll. Key word:little. There are three bedrooms and one bath — spread out over a whopping 950 sq. feet. Paul and I convinced each other that this will contribute to our transcendentalist idea of simplicity. We’ll get rid of most everything, we told each other.

It’s not available until November. And there’s that catch again: a one year lease. Suddenly, that leash … I mean, lease, doesn’t mean so much anymore … if it’s just around the corner from downtown Bend and practically on the river and there’s a garden with a little garage and it’s so … romantic!

It’s exactly the same price and terms as the first house I settled on in Prineville — but under half the size. But Paul is twice as excited and I can’t help getting carried away with him.

Later, that evening, Paul lamented the guitar I gave away after buying him two sets of lessons he never used. I wondered if we were being completely unrealistic in expecting us to eliminate 3/4 of our stuff.

The three younger girls saw the house and fell in love.

Then, we brought Elsa. The house had lost some of its romance when we all stood in it.Looking at her face with expectancy only brought disappointment. She was underwhelmed, unimpressed, completely thunderstruck as to why we were so happy.

She almost burst into tears.

“If we have to live away from Prineville, can it at least be for a good house? That place is tiny!” she said.

We sat in silence on the way home. Ingrid said, “It’s not all about you, Elsa!”

We all silently agreed.

But the expensive rent, the year lease, and the tiny size did nag at our comfort.

Tonight, Paul visited another tiny place — even tinier than the first — and in Prineville. But it has a liveable basement, it’s month-to-month, and it’s almost half the rent. It’s within walking distance of all the schools so it virtually eliminates my driving to kids’ activities.

Maybe I’ll get that book written!

No garage.

And it’s not available until November either.

What are we supposed to do until then? I’m looking into vacation rentals for either choice. No matter what, the choices we have confined ourselves to require us to wait … again.

If there is a plan involved, I’m ready. If we have a reason, a hope, a sacrifice can be readily made. Once the decision is made, I’ll feel so much better.


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