The photographer was just here shooting the house for use with MLS (Multiple Listing Service) and the various real estate sites on the web. Knowing something of the technical end of photography, I was quite impressed with her. The equipment she needed was packed and ready for use. She was shooting with a 17mm lens, which is just right to make interiors look really big. She said she'd get the photos to Jan (my Realtor) tomorrow.
Emotionally, this was the point of no return. The whole world will soon know my intentions, and I'll have to keep the place cleaned up enough to be ready for spur-of-the-moment showings from here on out. And I'm sure we'll kick it all off with an open house (don't they always?).
So I'm accepting the house being on the market on a gut level now. It makes everything churn inside when I think about it. I think about the AA slogan, "Let go and let God." Except, in most cases, God doesn't cover cleaning and maintenance. I am going to have to get back into the routine of cleaning house constantly, something I haven't done as a habit in quite a while.
All this is getting me out of my funk, though. And if I have to choose between depression and anxiety, I'll go with anxiety, because at least things are happening. My sleeping habits have slowly slipped back toward the daytime, and I'm getting up at 8:30 or 9:30 in the morning without the aid of an alarm clock. Getting around to doing something productive can take much time, though.
So it's Oscar weekend. Steve and Roberto sent me an invitation to their party, but I don't want to put myself in a position where I blow up at Steve's old friends for dropping out of site when I needed them most. And, beyond Steve and Roberto and a handful of others, I have no desire to spend an entire evening with people pontificating on the Oscars and film and the entertainment industry.
It's taken a couple of years, but I have all the Hollywood out of my identity. Of course I'm still proud of working at The Reporter, and I'm glad to have had an inside look — a least from a media point of view — into "the Business," but I am so glad not to have to pay attention to all that anymore.
I feel no compelling need to see all the nominated films (and have no access to screener DVDs which facilitated that). In fact, the whole awards season (from November through March) is something I do not miss. Still, my experiences in LaLaLand do make good cocktail conversation.
So I've detached myself from the professional reason I am in L.A. And I've grieved the loss of the only reason I was in Pasadena. Selling the house is the final excision of me from Southern California.
I glimpsed a couple of the shots the photographer was taking, and they looked great. This place is really shining and "move-in ready," as they say.
I want to say the house hasn't been this attractive in years, but it's not true. Minimalism is attractive, but I have memories of this home filled with me and Steve and all our stuff, and I want those to be overflowing, cozy and personal.
So as soon as Jan sends over some of the pics, I'll put them up here so you can look at them.
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