Ok, so it is the first day of September. After a long morning of moving furniture, packing up breakables, and a few arguments, we've gotten read to start painting the living room. I get the rather empty victory of being right that we should have bought new paint trays while we were at Lowes this morning.
"The ones we have are fine!" said The Husband when I suggested it. So, I didn't grab them.
But when I said "You get the paint trays, I'll spread the dropcloths", he came back with "Oh, the dried paint on these is peeling. I don't want it to mix with the new paint..." Insert eye-rolling here.
He's on his way to Lowes again. This is the fifth thing in a row he's decided needed doing just as I said "Ok, let's get the paint." He doesn't want to paint. It was his insistence that we need to paint that started this (well, ok, I want to get rid of the salmon color) . We have three rooms to paint this weekend. Furniture must revolve, remove, rearrange. Our lovely faux fireplace and hearth -- gone. Again, The Husband went from "oh, leave it with the house" to "I don't see why we can't keep it."
I think this is all getting to him, too. I don't know that he would admit it, but I think he's feeling a little of the "oyster pried from the bed" sensation I've been feeling. I'm ready to go, I really am. It's this waiting thing. It's the having to remove the "me" from my house. This house is the first one that was actually MINE, and it was a hard, long struggle to make it so -- I'd lived here 10 years before I finally felt like it was my home. So, yes, I'm feeling some resentment over all these changes. This whole "leaving without leaving" thing is awful. It's staying in a relationship after you've broken up. It's having to go back to work at a job after you've already quit. It just won't be OVER.
I know one thing. Once I leave this house, I never want to see it again.