If you’ve been reading for a few months, you know that I was decluttering in earnest, anticipating a downsizing of my house, but that deal fell through and so I decided to stay where I am and put the idea of a move on a strong “Not Now” status. My original thinking was that about when I turned 70 would be a good (better) time to put my plan in action – the plan I had carefully crafted when I started exploring what it would take. Before I hit that speed bump.

My consolation prize to myself was to go forward here and now with things that I envisioned I would do at the new house. Things like change up the general vibe of my house, brighten the colors, update the furniture, maybe switch up the themes I seemed to have surrounded myself with. I had thought the new house would lend itself better to a somewhat more modern and fresh look. Maybe with a Southwestern flair, or even a more girlie (but not Barbie) look. My current home does suit me, I think, but the exterior Colonial style doesn’t seem to invite these other options to get creative. I’ve been going for a look that says “elevated yet relaxed style with some flair” here, and was going to throw in a splash of excitement on top at the new place.

I remember once a friend urging me to consider buying an armoire done in a shabby-chic look, and I did like it, but I was married at the time … to an outdoorsman who happened to be a bit of a big boy. The armoire was clearly not a good fit for the home we had together, the one with the dead animals on the wall and the big leather La-Z-Boy recliners. I told her that if I was flying solo, I’d have a completely different look and the armoire would probably make the cut then.

Now, here I am, flying solo. More than 10 years had gone by since I became solo again. No armoire. However, I did paint his gun cabinet a “drop cloth” color on the outside and a “rose gold” color on the inside, and it now holds lap quilts and sofa blankets instead of rifles. The walls are now a soft Zen green color, and the rug on the floor is cream colored. There is a bit of an MCM thing going on in the living room, with an antique fireplace mantle next to the swag light fixture and orange side chairs, and crystals in a dough bowl on the turquoise coffee table. You can see the Elvis and Englebert albums next to the phonograph player.

Anyway, I thought I might do something different in the new house, which didn’t happen, and so instead of waiting any longer to buy new furniture, I went ahead and started the search for a new look in the current place. I fell in love with a teal colored sectional sofa, and a cabbage-rose overstuffed arm chair and ottoman. But I was definitely not in love with the price tag. I shopped for a few weeks, hitting both consignment stores as well as retail showrooms. And then I found some pieces that met the vibe, the color scheme, and the budget. Best of all, the couch met my primary criteria: durable and nappable, i.e., movable cushions that would facilitate nap time with three dogs. And the chair was one of a kind – dramatic circle cut-outs on the sides and colorful pattern fabric.

Of course, this required moving some other furniture around, as well as selling some. Then I also found a glorious floor mirror, with a wide glam frame. That took some styling, let me tell you! Partly because the console table adjacent to it now looked insubstantial, with skinny legs and a glass top. So I did another switcheroo with a painted table in the dining room that had Queen Anne legs. Better, but not yet right. So I bought a cabinet-y side table thing that looks fabulous on its own, but not quite so fabulous when placed near the mirror. Instead it made its new home in the dining room in place of the other console table.

Now it was time to hunt for a different table. It needed to have some curves because there were a lot of straight lines and hard surfaces in the room. I found an intriguing piece at a consignment store but the price wasn’t exactly right, and I wasn’t convinced it would do what I wanted. It was oval, and tiger wood (sigh!), and had curly-que legs, but it was broader than I intended, which would mean that I would not be able to get a round velvet ottoman with the fringe element, and I worried that since the new-to-me side chair had circles on it as well plus also skinny legs, the table would overpower it.

Lady Luck was with me, though. As I was hunting for a floor lamp, I came across the perfect console table on Market Place. Perfectly perfect!!

All this is to say that a lot of thought and time and some money went into the “staying put” decision. On top of which, I also went ahead and wallpapered the powder room on the first floor. And replaced the faucet in the guest bathroom upstairs. And put some decals on the kitchen cabinets. Most of all, I finished the decluttering project, or at least the phase I was in, which was a once-over of every room in the house plus the garage, plus some landscaping.

Over a month went by, and I was happily re-loving my home. The naps were delicious on the couch. The mirror looks like it has always been part of the family room. The kitchen counters are clear again. The powder room makes me smile when I walk by. I was relaxing – no lists commanding my attention. No donations to deliver. No closets or secret hiding places to cull. My birthday came and went, and I still have a couple of years until I’m 70, so all was well in my world.

Then I had my regular monthly call with my Silver Sherpa. Nope, I am good! I don’t need anything right now, no help, no support. She asked me, though, what would it take to make me restart my engines? If the right house came along, would I consider moving, or had I closed and locked that door until I was 70? Well, of course, if it was the right house, in the right location, with the right floor plan, at the right price, sure, I would consider it. But I wasn’t looking for that kind of Mr. Right, and I didn’t plan to go looking either. So it would really, really have to be a sweetheart deal.

And then a friend caught up with me at a stop sign. To tell me that her neighbor was going to be holding an estate sale in the coming week, after which the house was going on the market. A single-level, 3 bedroom house. Just a few doors down from the one where the deal fell apart. But wait! That’s not all!

Another friend stopped by to tell me that the house across the street from her had a For Sale sign go up that morning.

Are these signs from The Universe?!??

I went to the estate sale – only to get a sneak peek at the house to see if there was anything at all that would entice me – where another woman I know told me that there were likely two going up for sale on her street. Luckily, one would be on a corner lot, which I am not interested in (same as the house across the street from my friend, so whew! no need to get excited), but the other one would be in the middle of the block.

ARGHH! I was done already. I am done. I do not want to move. The idea of decluttering for actual downsizing now, the idea of packing and moving, the idea of changing my address on everything …. Not going to do it. I made up my mind. Didn’t I? If nothing else, I proved to myself that this international decluttering and downsizing movement is not for the faint of heart. It’s more mental than physical, and we all know there is a LOT of physical work involved.

Days went by, and then one of my sisters called. Her name is Trouble. I told her of this on-off-on-off drama. Quite matter of factly, she told me that, of course, if it was the right house, I would definitely go for it. I’d be a fool to not consider it. I could have everything I wanted, on my own terms. If it was the right house. There was no harm in just looking, she said. Because she’s not the one on this roller coaster ride. But she persuaded me to keep an open mind.

So I did what any self-respecting woman would do in this situation. I renewed my passport, arranged dog care, and am planning a trip. In less than three months’ time. I won’t have time to think about what it would even take for me to decide to move, much less and pack and move and set up a new home. To not decide is to decide, right? But maybe on the airplane I will start a very specific list of conditions….