Rivaled only by childbirth (so I am told) and buying a car, I don’t know of many life experiences that combine so much joy with so much pain as moving into a new home.  We have done it seven times, including two previous long distance moves from Chicago to Orlando and Orlando to Pine.  You would think we would remember the trauma.  But, after 14 years in Colorado, we decided to move to the wine country of the Walla Walla Valley.  And just like on those previous occasions, it would be quite an experience.  For every moment of absolute bliss and excitement, there would be an equal number of:

• Last minute requests for paperwork (“Can you have your accountant write a letter explaining that the information on the five years of tax forms you provided is accurate and that you really are self-employed and have been successfully for 20 years?” ARGH),
• Changes in your closing date (“I understand you are homeless effective on April 24, but it turns out we won’t have all the closing papers ready until April 27,” SERIOUSLY?), and
• Last minute house appraisal issues (“So, the appraiser mentioned a negative drainage issue involving two feet of your house’s southern facing side. In order to close, we just need you to grade your entire property within 48 hours to eliminate that so the underwriter will sign off,” Sweetie, hand me my gun!).

I did learn some things driving 1100 miles across the Rocky Mountains with my lovely bride and two big dogs in the back towing a horse trailer containing 300 bottles of wine.  One was that the wine really should be more accessible.  Here are just a few of the highlights, both good and, well, they will make wonderful stories once we complete therapy.

• Every step of selling and buying a home includes a moment of sublime ecstasy rarely matched during our existence, followed by a moment of incalculable terror that sucks all of the aforementioned ecstasy out of your system and finally replaces it with just enough relief that the net effect is exhaustion. For example, you are told that your new home is amazing and will not be on the market more than 30 days.  This is followed by a visit by a home stager who asks you to hide every single decorative element in your home and any evidence that you live there.  You then get your first showing scheduled and collect up the dogs and go for a walk.  Then, you are told they are running late and your one hour walk becomes a four hour death march resulting in you returning home in a car that smells like a dog pound only to find out that the showing canceled.
• The next showing you go to a movie and dinner and brace yourself for another disappointment only to get a text from your realtor that the people are going to make an offer. (OMG) This is what happened to us.  First showing, first offer.  Then you worry that the offer will be low (Oh no).  Then you find out the offer is for full asking price (OMG).   But, there are contingencies (Oh no).   But, you can live with them.  This pattern repeats during the home inspection, appraisal process, and closing.  I estimate that I lost 6.25 years of life expectancy between listing and close.
• Then, there is moving. To be honest, I didn’t even deal with much of this.  I was busy doing my whole, “have mouth, will travel” thing while my lovely bride packed and made arrangements with the movers.  What I can tell you is that if I see packing tape and a cardboard box again in the next thirty years it will be too soon.  Oh, and bubble wrap.  I used to love bubble wrap.  Now, it gives me nightmares.  Despite wrapping everything in bubble wrap and blankets, and stuffing every box with enough packing material to ensure the lunar module could re-enter orbit and land unharmed, every single item we own arrived in Walla Walla with at least one scratch, dent, or nick.  Seriously, it was almost like there was someone at the moving company responsible for removing every possession and carefully damaging it in incredibly minor and irritating ways.  Our three horses and two dogs were the only things that arrived unscathed, only if you omit mental anguish as a qualifier (to be fair, Bob already had some issues).
• Despite all this, the most important thing I learned was how amazing it was to be able to have an adventure like this. The four of us (Lori, me, Bob and Boone (the dogs)), made our way across the mountains working as a team to get to our new home.  We ate in truck stops, drank wine snatched from the back of the horse trailer, and peed in the yard of gas stations.  To be clear, that last experience mainly pertained to the dogs with the exception of that incident in Baker City, Oregon.  I don’t want to talk about it.

It took two weeks for us to close on our house in Pine, make our way out to Walla Walla, and turn our new house into our new home.  I can’t remember when I have had so much fun.  To spend two weeks in a completely new experience with no semblance of routine, no relying on muscle memory, being attentive to life the entire time, was exhilarating.  It was a reminder to me of how much of life we spend on cruise control.  And one of the best parts of those two weeks is that I was present for nearly every minute.  Mindful.  HERE.  I wasn’t looking ahead or reviewing the past.  I was living the now.  It makes me want to achieve that state more often.

Just not by moving.