House papers are signed with realtor yesterday—seems like there were about 15 of them (papers not realtors). It has started to rain in Seattle after an unusual 3 month drought. Now it is pouring and I see two of my gutter downspouts are not working. There is some kind of flex tubing that runs underground to the sewer. Neighbors tell me that most of these have collapsed over the years. No idea how to fix as trees are now growing over where the tubing was run—house is 30 years old. I am totally freaking. Had thought all the outside stuff had been taken care of—duh! And now it’s pouring which is what it normally does in Seattle, it rains. A lot.
So now the house is open to potential buyers. I must be available . . . or not. Perspective buyers and their realtors just come in if I’m not here, or if I am here I must leave. I got lucky with the cats. They are to be banished to a small upstairs bedroom when I am gone. They will not like it but it’s a lot better than the van. I just pray Bucks doesn’t poop on my bed. He has an attitude—you may have noticed.
The house must be totally clean and as empty as possible. No papers left laying around-things like toaster, blender, coffee, cutting board . . . anything that might be used to maintain life or comfort must be kept out of sight, plus anything that might be stolen. I have no idea where anything is now. My writing has pretty much stopped except for Buckminster on which I’m spending about 3 hours a week. It’s been fairly easy, pretty much just leaks out of my head when I’m at the keyboard . . . so far, but I worry the story will get stuck up a blind alley with no way out. I have no plan at all for how the tail will go. (Pun intended)
When I knew where everything was.
When I knew were some things were.
Now I don’t know where anything is!!!