Changes?

There is a small crack in my brain beginning to open in front of the idea of moving.  Ideally, into a Tiny House.  Small house, small crack.  When I think about that, with calm and cool reason, I can say that I don't have any strong attachment to this house.

(Don't know why I scribbled the address out;  most of you know it.)  At any rate, when I think about leaving, nothing powerful holds me.  Yes, my husband died here, but obviously I can and have stayed here after that.  It could just be time for me to go.

Or not.  The housing market right now?  🤷‍♀️  I'm also having a difficult time finding a Tiny House Community kind of nearby.  I can't afford to buy land and have one built or moved there.  A move-in-ready one is my best bet.

My typing this here is the first time I've "talked" about it to anyone but my therapist and my two children.  In order, one "Yes," one uncommitted, one vehement "No."  

It's up in the air.

There are changes here with eyes toward living elsewhere.  The term "downsizing" bothers me;  it seems final and hopeless.  Besides, it's a bit twee* when the plan is to move into a tiny house.  Long-time readers will recognize this wall in my den:

Dear, dear Riley.  She never got on furniture, so this photo is something.  Anyway, I've been taking down some things there and moving things in from other rooms.  There's practically nothing left on the walls in my bedroom.  In the downstairs hall, evidence of my sudden infatuation with animals on couches:

Unsurprisingly, the fever began with the horse.  The cow was too cute to pass by.  There are others on order;  I'll keep you updated.

Artemis II has launched as I'm typing this.  It's going 15,000 mph.  I love this stuff.  "Yeah, we're just gonna swing around the moon.  Check ya later."

*I see you, Twinnie.  😉