Friday, June 26, 2009

Deal is null and void

The potential buyers have not been able to gather a deposit so the deal is off.

Here we go again. Last night two couples came through the house. Today two more. 

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

House selling saga continues

Yesterday I was a mess of energy, trying not to worry about house deal. 

At around two in the afternoon, I heard that the couple want the house, will take off the "subject to inspection" but didn't have the deposit money. I thought this irresponsible but Helen told me that once she was in a similar position - so much to think about when purchasing a house that she forgot about the deposit.  

The potential buyers have until 5 pm on Thursday to find the money otherwise the deal is null and void. 

So the waiting continues...

Monday, June 22, 2009


On Friday, returning from Albi I drove by a field of sunflowers with faces open to the sun - the first I've seen this year.

On Saturday, I flew to Vancouver via London into Rob's arms. Later that evening, my amazing Gill came home to welcome me. 

I didn't intend to come home until July 3rd but we had another offer on the house, a good offer, that included a personal letter. Gill just happened to drop in during the original viewing, and told the prospective buyers that she had been born into the house and showed them round telling the house's history through memories of her childhood. In the buyer's letter, he said that they found Gill's stories "comforting and reassuring" as he and his wife want to raise their children in such a home. "As a writer myself, I fell in love with the 'writer's cabin' and my wife, who is also an artist, loved the feeling of your house." 

Yesterday, an official inspector came through our home, digging into every nook and cranny in order to alert the buyers of any potential problem. The couple and their real estate agent joined him.

On Tuesday, the buyers have to give us a yeah or nay. If it's a yes, they want to move in July 11th and that's why I flew home early. I hope that they are the people we've been waiting for. 

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Monday, June 15, 2009

I wish I may, I wish I might

Have the wish I wish tonight

I want our house sold at a fair price. We have had two offers that have fallen through. We are negotiating a third. We have another viewing today and three more tomorrow and all the worrying is eating away at my gut. I hate it. We may have to take the house off the market and wait for better times and the only problem with doing this is that we'll have to go through this process all over again. 

So I wish that our house sells at a fair price soon. 

Come what may, I'm flying home July 3rd. 

Saturday, June 13, 2009

He's my man

Our song. 

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Here we go again

We have another offer on the house - not as good as the last one but good enough. Sometime Friday the subject will be removed, or not, and Rob and I will know if we'll be able to lead a simpler life with no more invasive tours of our home. 

It's harder on Rob at this time as he's working impossible hours - one day he had to leave at 4:30 am and still he had to rise earlier to make sure all was proper. So I'm hoping more for his sake than mine that the inspection will prove the house worthy and we can move on, though money will not change hands until September 3rd.

No matter what happens, I fly to Toronto July 3rd, and will be back in Vancouver soon after.  

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

To everything there is a season

a time for every purpose under the sun...

The other evening, we had friends for dinner and Marlene created the substance - a potato and chickpea curry. (She is a wonder in the kitchen, can make something delicious from anything, refusing to waste - even the tops of the green onions.)

We began the evening at Ruth's artistically renovated houses - two ancient dwellings linked with a short staircase from kitchen to dining area - with kirs and tiny squares of bread topped with tapinade, cheese, and olives. 

I  left a few minutes early to add the finishing touches to our casual dinner. Plates and cutlery are placed en masse on the table, food on the island so our guests won't feel stuck in one place and can circulate.

I don't know about anyone else but I loved the evening. This may sound corny (I can hear Susan sigh) but there is something special about each individual who gathered this evening, speaking French, German, and English, representing Scotland, England, Switzerland, Germany, the United States, and Canada, who share a love for this tiny village, music and literature, good food and conversation. There is no pretention. Silliness and seriousness abound. 

This morning I sit on the terrace wondering what to do with myself. Brendan is down three flights of stairs working. Marlene is down one flight. Although this house isn't large, there is easily enough room for the three of us to live and work and not disturb each other.

I am the only one not doing serious work. I think now worrying about our West Van home is futile. Finally I accept that it may take some time to sell, or may not sell this time round. (Rob and I have decided we will rent it if nothing happens in the next month.) I have to move on and do something but what?  I am not sure but I realize after several days of proprioceptive writing that I am not content being just a cleaner of houses. I need more - some work that excites me. Money would be nice but I've never been successful at making money. Though this pisses me off and often makes me feel like excess baggage, I have to admit that it has never been a priority. And it is too late to work my way up the corporate ladder. I could take some job, any job, for a pittance to make something...

I feel like a bore. What would inspire me, spark my passion for words beyond Scrabble on Facebook? I tell myself I'm improving my vocabulary but I know, deep down, that I am procrastinating, avoiding the real work of writing. 

I don't know where to begin. I don't like what I've done so far with my novel. It's too contrived, not rich, too ponderous, not full of fun and laughter. It's boring. I am too heavy, too weighed down, putting emphasis on all the wrong things - like my incessant cleaning for one - spending hours on things that I could accomplish in one concentrated hour. How do I move away from this behavioral pattern? Perhaps I shall tie myself to a chair. 

Since turning sixty, I have been aware of time and how quickly it is gone, how little I have left. Ruth spoke of going to an island, learning how to die... and I see that I fear death, not finding myself, leaving before I have done what I want to do. I'm driving myself crazy but what if I have to be more crazy, let go of control, to do what I ache to do?  

Somehow the body has got lost in the housework. I imagine that I have a choice. I can have a sparkling clean house, a home that others covet, desire, would give anything to have. Or I can spend one glorious afternoon in the orgasm tent of Ruth's story - with my true love. 

Which would you prefer?