The Itch

So, it's December. We're past three birthdays (Dr. D, my brother, St. Nick), only Christmas and one birthday left (Fish). I'm moody and hormonal (no, not any reason beyond the usual), and this cycle I'm picking Moving House as my obsession-of-the-month. I'm so desperate for something to change. For eight years we've lived here, in this neighborhood I've always seen as "temporary." We listed the house last summer, but the market was terrible. Only ... it's worse now! And there are several houses (that I shouldn't have been looking at) that seem just oh-so perfect.

Huge melodramatic sigh.

The mud-room-pantry-microwave-area that doesn't lock...

Now I'm wishing we'd left the house on the market. Only had we sold last fall, the house I like best (of the ones I shouldn't even be looking at) wouldn't have been in our price range yet. But given Dr. D's desire to wait until spring to list again, and the lousy market, it seems unlikely that any of the houses I like will still be for sale. Or that ours would ever sell. Oh, bla. Just whining out loud. I'll stop now. Waaaah.