I’m not going anywhere.

Unless and until I have somewhere to go that is, by some deeply personal and subjective metric, “better”.

So, selling this raggedy little house is quite low on the priority list.

And thus, so is fixing it up, in order to sell it, or fixing it for any other reason.

I’m quite okay, with how things are.

If they never changed at all, I guess I could live with that and be just fine.

My ears are wide open to proposals for alternatives.

My soul is open to listening and choosing among them.

So far I am still way before any choosing.

So far, I am still before even hearing anything, besides the sound of the wind and the song of the birds.