oh canada

Realtors are visiting our home later this week. Actually a "stager" and a realtor are both coming. To put the house on the... yes, on the market. Which means... I will need to learn the lyrics to "Oh Canada" soon. And I'll need to start adding "eh" to the end of all of my sentences. Oh, and about only a million other naggers on my to-do list, including finding out wtf a "stager" is. I suspect I will need to brace myself for a few insults toward my decor: "Really, I'm not supposed to have my Bitch collection of glasses and posters in my China cabinet? You don't like all of the alcohol stickers on my boys' bunkbeds? Doesn't everybody have a pile of their kids' papers and dog hair on their kitchen table? Why is it necessary to have the linens and towels match? You are not seriously expecting me to CLEAN every day."

Instead, I'm finding myself here, writing. Writing to process the complexity of this upcoming life trans-mega-ition.

I'm a "lister," so I list things. Today, I list my fears:

1. That no one in Canada will like me.

2. That Canadians have a drastically different style, and I'll have to re-think my entire wardrobe. And hair.

3. That no one in my next neighborhood will have finished high school.

4. That my boys' school will be full of helicopter parents, or worse, no-copters at all.

5. That I'll forget to do something important here in Denver. Like say goodbye to someone I love dearly. Or pack my dog.

6. That people in Canada may think I'm strange for drinking during the week. Or letting my boys' hair run wild. Or... see above comments to the "stager."

7. That I will get to Canada and then I won't want to be there. And it will be too late.

8. That no one in Canada will know all of the important things I've accomplished. And it will be awkward to have to tell them. Wait. I haven't really accomplished that much. But still.

9. That Canadians will be crazy intimidated by my extreme attractiveness. And I'll have to repeat the mantra: "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

10. Mostly, that I'll start caring what other people think about me. I have convinced and fooled myself during the past few years into believing that I did not, in fact, care.

Cheers to convincing ourselves to be delusional, eh?