itchy feet

Okay, those itchy feet are in the most metaphorical way possible, people.

Barring premonitions of never-before-had eczema on my tootsies, I am firmly blaming my restlessness on a desire to move.  This is nothing new. I’ve been threatening this for over a year.   I’m not talking a move across country or even across the province.  I just want to switch up the house.  For something with a small yard, maybe.  And my own walls.  Townhouse living has its perks, don’t get me wrong, but these days the grass growing next to the single family, detached home is getting greener by the minute.

The Magpie will (hopefully) be enrolled in school in the neighbouring suburb next year; moving closer to her school just makes sense.  We’ve been in our current townhouse for 10 years: the arbitrary amount of time we figured we’d be here.  As the Magpie gets older, the configuration isn’t ideal.  Maybe I’ve just had enough recent changes in my life that it seems like a good time to all that new me to a new-to-me place.  The strata, as unfussy and easy-going as they are, are unfussy and easy-going.  And I want my railings painted and my deck levelled.

But, mostly, at this exact moment, my neighbour seems to be either:

  1. hanging two dozen pictures on one wall,
  2. installing new baseboards or
  3. playing racquetball in her livingroom.

I suspect this is in retaliation for the one painting I hung earlier today.  And maybe the vacuuming I did in the mid-afternoon.

And, that, at the end of the day, may be what’s finally starting to get to me.  For the longest time, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that my house is one room wide.  It didn’t make sense to me, so it didn’t bother me.  Most of the time, it still doesn’t even cross my mind.  But I’ve been more and more aware of it lately – not even in a bad, why-are-you-banging-on-the-wall-damn-it kind of way – and it’s started to become strange.

The first time I was in a townhouse like this I thought it was the craziest thing and knew – knew! – I would never own anything like it.  I mean, townhouses that look like mini houses with several rooms on each floor?  Sure.  But when we toured this place, with its multitude of split levels, it just fit what we needed at the time.

At the time.

A long time ago.

Is there anything wrong with it?  Not at all.  And there is a lot right with it.  It just may not be right for us anymore.

Maybe I’ll have done something about it by this time next year.

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