A House and Its Head

"Don't jinx it!"

My sister and I said the same thing when I finally received an offer on my house, which has been for sale since I left Duluth in July 2007.

I truly can't think of the last time I used that phrase.

The following week, a friend was approved for tenure at her college. It had been rough going. After the committee and the administration had passed it, she still had to wait for the board to approve. They did. Neverthless, she didn't trumpet her success.

"I don't want to jinx it!" she said, in hushed tones. After all, she's not really "tenured" until next fall when she comes back for her fifth year. I think she told her dad.

It's funny how major life experiences can send us back to childhood, to superstition. I'm not really superstitious at all, but this house thing has gotten me nervous. I never did bury a statue of St. Joseph in the back yard, but I wouldn't be surprised if my agent did.

So after living in southern California for two-and-a-half years, I am close to selling my house in Minnesota. For far less than I bought it. For just a wee bit more than I owe on it. Which means I'll still have to bring my checkbook to the closing (metaphorically speaking, as I won't actually be attending the closing in person) mostly to pay the agent fees.

Considering the whole It's the End of the World as We Know It nature of the housing crisis, I still consider myself lucky and will not bemoan my lost thousands too much. Folks I know have lost tens of thousands, and other folks I know have lost their homes while they were still living in them. I was not a victim of a scam, or a sub-prime mortgage, or balloon payments, or a bad romance (well, not this time). I just got a job in a different part of the country and couldn't sell my house.


Since it's nearly done, and I may never see the inside of it again, I'll post a couple of memories of the house and the times it had. Enjoy. I did.

My good friend Jean at my Elizabeth Taylor party.

Another good friend, Tami, at ET party (note the purple cocktail).

The big dig, to fix a broken water main and repair the driveway, cost nearly $10,000 and took six months.

Looking at these I remember painting the living room and dining room. Dark red dining room and mustardy yellow living room, so warm in the morning light. I decorated them to look like a southern California bungalow. "If you can't live there, you might as well pretend," said the X-BF. Prescient.

There are other photos of living in Duluth that involve winter and sports and winter sports. But those will have to wait for another time.