My husband must have it somewhere in his lineage. About every two years, like clockwork, he gets restless and begins a search for new places to live. He’s looking again now. We are just settling in. After numerous configurations, we finally found the right one for the living room furniture, and after much trial and error, discovered the perfect organization for the kitchen. We’ve found the best routes to the grocery store and other important places and found good doctors and dentists.
In the last fifteen years, we’ve moved seven times. We lived in two different homes in my hometown in Oregon before moving to Arizona. We changed cities twice while in that state. Since coming to Idaho, we’ve relocated to three cities, and now he’s looking again. At least this time he doesn’t want to move out of state, just to another city.
When we bought our current home, he promised we’d live here until the kids carried us out. So much for that promise. The moment I retired, things changed. No longer needing to worry about jobs, he wants to be in a smaller city closer to his favorite hunting spots. But will it be enough to deter his wanderlust? We aren’t getting any younger and the last move almost killed us.
His answer to my concern, pods. In theory, it sounds easier than a self-driven U-Haul, but there is still the packing, the loading, and the unloading. We know the guys from Two Men and a Truck by their first names. Wonder what comments we’ll get when we call them for the fourth time.
I have put down parameters. I refuse to move unless the next house is a huge improvement over our current home, and that will be quite the feat. Our home is custom built with many beautiful additions, with a perfect location (except for not being closer to hunting areas). We have great neighbors, a gorgeous walking trail, and we are not far from all the amenities we could ever want. It will be very, very hard to top all that.
Rather than fretting and worrying about the move, I’ve left it in God’s hands. If He wills it, then so be it. Everything will fall into place. If not, then it won’t happen.
So far, every house my husband has been interested in hasn’t worked out. Either it already had a firm offer when we called the realtor, or something wasn’t right about the location, the property, or the structure.
On our wedding day, I promised my husband I’d follow him anywhere. Perhaps I should have paid more attention when the lions roared the moment those words left my mouth. Maybe they were warning me to be careful with what I promised…