I once lived in the same house for nine years, a real milestone for me. Usually my staying power disappears after two or three years. Then I’m off to find some other place, whether it is across town or across the country. I love to move.
Truthfully, it’s all I know. Growing up, I attended five schools between Kindergarten and eighth grade. I went to two high schools. It wasn’t because I was some sort of truant; rather, my mother — a single parent pioneer — moved when she got a better job, the easier to support us.
I suppose I could have settled down somewhere along the way, but my motto has been “If it’s time to paint, it’s time to move.” I count at least thirty difference places — apartments, condos, homes — on my list of residences. That’s an average of one every couple years.
I’m getting itchy again. We’ve been in this house, my favorite of all my homes, for seven and a half years. We’ve loved every minute. At the same time, it’s a big place with an even bigger yard that requires manicured maintenance to keep it the way Earl and I like. We are at a point in our lives where travel and other interests trump having a large home. So we’re looking to downsize in the future.
There are those who have the opposite point of view. They stay in their homes until the thirty year mortgage is paid. Travel isn’t appealing. Rather, tThey enjoy moss and shake their heads at the proverbial rolling stone.
I say both types of people are needed.
The stay-putters keep the fabric of society from unraveling; they provide continuity, while the rolling stones, probably a minority, search new friends and experiences and take their old experiences along for cross-pollination. Everyone — the stay putters and the cross pollinators — benefits. This isn’t the main reason I get itchy to move, but it is a productive by-product. So somewhere in the next year, Earl and I’ll be moving on. Thank goodness, he’s okay with the “time to paint, time to move” philosophy.
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