A sad state of affairs...perhaps...

This may be the hardest post I’ve ever had to write. And, no, it’s not the end of Linguini on the Ceiling, just to get that out of the way. But there is no denying Linguini has suffered over the past year or so and this may give you an insight as to why.

K. Here goes.

The Linguinis are high-tailing it back to the House of Squalor and the House of Neverending Construction is up for sale.

There. I said it.

Those of you who have been with me for the past two years know the ramifications of this statement. You know of the anguish and waiting and disappointment we went through to get here and know what a kick in the stomach it is for all of us to have to give it up.

But we’ve had to circle the wagons this last year, so to speak; pull up the drawbridge and try to cut our losses. We really thought the housing industry would have at least leveled out by now. We knew the glory days were over and didn’t expect them to last forever. While the glory days were what built this house in the first place, we figured the usual income from the industry was all we needed once we dealt with the initial outlay.

We probably could have survived the total annihilation of the housing market if that was all we had to deal with. Dirtman had, in fact, begun to move into less market-dependent areas of the industry and that would have suited us fine. But we couldn’t absorb the onslaughts from other factors on top of housing going bust.

The one thing Dirtman and I agreed about when he decided to go into business for himself was that we were going to maintain our integrity. No exploitation of situations, no undermining the competition, no backstabbing – all pretty easy to do when the market is good and there is plenty of work for everyone; but not so easy when things start getting competitive. We were totally unprepared for (read: naive) the lengths our “friends” would go to and still be able to justify betrayal. Frankly, Dirtman is usually the trusting one, but even I was taken in and that really pisses me off.

Needless to say, the embarrassment factor is quite high right now. Dirtman wants to hide. I just want to get it over with and start a new chapter. I don’t like the role of “victim” and need to shed it as soon as possible. But we know there is an element among the people we know who have been salivating for something like this to happen and, while they will make all the right sympathetic noises, they will not be able to keep the tinge of smugness out of their voices: “Well, that shows them. I would never find myself in this position. Of course if they lived their lives just like me this wouldn’t have happened. That’s what they get for being so uppity.”

(As an aside: We all know people like this, of course; people who are quite sure there is only one way to live and it’s their way. But what I want to know is: when they make their snide remarks and digs, do they actually think they’re so glib that we can’t hear how rude they’re being? Do they actually think they are so intellectually superior that, just because we’re too polite to call them on it, we don’t realize? Just wondering.)

So we are quite unsettled right now and feeling just a little bruised. But okay, really. Because we made some decisions before things got desperate, we have choices and control over how this is done – in other words, this is not a foreclosure situation, but a decision that Dirtman and I made over other options like working our tails off seven days a week to maintain a house we’re never home long enough to enjoy (not the lifestyle for us).

So, with the help of Dark Garden, the Twin Progenies and the Heirs, we will be putting the House of Squalor to rights so that I can inhabit it without getting sick. We will be paring down significantly, which, to me, is almost a relief.

And, really, I wonder if this wasn’t what we intended for awhile now. When we moved here a year and a half ago, it was overwhelming. I can’t deny how wonderful it was to have heat and water that was reliable; to not have to climb up and down flights of stairs to do laundry in between high and low tide in the basement; to not have to share a bathroom with the Three Stooges.

That being said, I had begun to explore concepts of sustainability and getting closer to the things that I need to live and this house really is not conducive to any of that. There’s no denying that, for the most part, I’m heating or cooling three floors for four people, not to mention that I’d have to relocate an entire field in order to have a garden.

So, to me, this is the first step of a new life. Dirtman isn’t there yet, so tread softly around him.

This is my gift to the smug among you: go forth and gloat.

To the rest of you, my friends, thank you in advance for your support.