This time it will, no doubt, be less brain-shredding than the last time. When we had to sell our place in Newberry Plaza (where I'd lived for 37 years), it was the most hideous thing that has ever happened to me. I'll probably never be "right" from the damage that did to me.
Well, it turned out that The Wife's calculations for our living here were somewhat on the "wishful" side, and she's been gung-ho on our moving again for at least a year. I'm totally useless for this stuff (the depression/anxiety/PTSD that's got me listed as "disabled" is full-on triggered by it), so I don't have the details, but when I got in from reading at Starbucks this evening, she told me that we'd had an "acceptable" bid on it (still considerably less than we paid for it just a few years ago), and that we're going into that process again.
So, three and a half years after tearing my life and mind apart, we're moving again. It's almost funny that we have no idea of where we're going ... just that it's not going to be here. The Wife wants us to get some income property, right when the government is making that a sucker bet. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be living in an underpass before too long.
