Making me NERVOUS

May my father in law rest in peace.  He was an unusual man, to say the least.  But when his wife or daughter got to him, he cut them off with a loud "You are getting me NERVOUS!"  It always worked -- my mother in law and Wifey backed off, and gave the man his space.

I'm much more chill than he was -- usually.  But as I age, and become more short tempered and crochety, I see the wisdom in his ways.  You have to have respect -- and the way I treat my family, well, I certainly earned it.

Wifey wants to move.  She says the house is too big, and she wants a change.  She wants to live in an area where you can walk to stuff -- like the market, and shops, and coffee.

She found a townhouse for sale in the Gables, near the Biltmore, and said she wanted to see it.  I told her to make sure they knew we have a buyer's agent -- this way a friend of ours gets half of any commission.  But I told Wifey I wasn't ready to move.

Still, she called our friend Allison, who is a realtor, and made an appointment to go look at the place today.  They were to meet at 1:15.  The place seemed nice enough -- Jeb Bush lives on the same street, it's a 3000 foot townhouse, and a half mile walk to Downtown Gables.  Because of its location, the asking price was $1.3M.  Location, location, location...

So I decided to, as my dear friend Paul would say, truly get in touch with my feelings about moving.

I had a lot of physical work to do today at the house -- taking down the storm panels, and putting them away in the garage.  I worked, and lifted, and took breaks.

I also had to empty a fountain at the front of the house -- it was green with blown in leaves.  That required about 50 buckets lifted down the front stairs.

And I sat -- for quite awhile, on the porch, or loggio as the builder of the house calls it.

I came to a strong conclusion:  I absolutely LOVE the house, and do not wish to move.

When I first saw this place, in December of 2000, it was house love at first sight.  The yellow house set against the green trees reminded me of Hemingway's place in Key West.  I want to be a bit like Ernest Hemingway.

Each time the front gates open, I also feel a bit like Jay Gatsby.  I sit at my own pond (now bereft of fish -- but that will change after the landscaper completes her cleanup.

I truly found my sanctuary.  I told Wifey.  She was sad -- and had me cancel the appointment with Allison.

If we're blessed with grandkids, I have a strong feeling my desire to be closer to them will trump my love of our house.  I want to be that grandpa who sees his grandkids several times per week, at least.  But that's in the future.

For now -- we'll get the place cleaned up.  We also have some work to do -- the house is now 20 years old and has never been painted.  That's a major undertaking given all the area, and walls, and towers near the pool.

So we're staying.  Wifey texted the Ds and Edna a picture from the movie Gray Gardens -- she sees herself stuck in an aging, decaying house.

But my absolute love of where we live for now outweighs her desire "for a change."

I plan to spent tomorrow, Yom Kippur, sitting around this place and reflecting and repenting.

But this is where I plan to stay, Big Man willing...