We own two houses. Sounds decadent, doesn’t it? Actually, it’s chaotic. And nightmarish. Half of our stuff is in one house, half in the other. Can you imagine making a 20 minute journey (each way, mind you) just to do laundry (which, by the way, I do at least every other day?)
My internet is up in the new house. All my books and writing files are still ensconced in the old. My favorite chair is here. My bed is there. And the list goes on.
I don’t know how much writing will get done in the next couple of weeks, but if the old house would sell, I don’t think I’d care. Three kids. Two houses. One husband. How much more can a girl handle?