Last night, I walked into the kitchen to get a snack and found water on the floor. Not a lot of water. A tiny trail in the cracks between the tiles.

Two years ago, I would have said, “Huh, must have spilled something,” or blamed it on the dogs. I would have wiped it up with a paper towel and forgotten all about it within ten minutes. Not anymore!

I crouched down on the floor and examined that water like it held the secrets to the universe. It didn’t touch the walls, so it couldn’t be coming from a wall, thank goodness. It didn’t touch the refrigerator, which halfway makes sense, since I never hooked up the water to the fridge again after the debacle of July 2014, where a pinprick hole turned into a major remodel, but also ruined my hope that maybe I’d spilled from the filter water without realizing. It did not appear to be connected to the dogs’ bowl, so it probably wasn’t them being messy.

Finally, I opened the cabinet under the sink and damn it, damn it, damn it, everything was wet. My faucet has a flexible head — the kind that you can pull out to spray water, like a shower hose — and I’d noticed before that it had been leaking. Apparently, the head was loose enough that when it was sitting in the stand, water was draining into the faucet and out below. I’d washed a bunch of dishes earlier and the whole time, water had been drip-drip-dripping into the cabinet. Argh!

I pulled everything out, mopped it up, tightened the faucet, watched for drips, (none, whew), and grumbled. But by the time I was done, I felt like it was the universe saying to me, “yes, really–sell the house!” and I felt joyful again.

Over the course of the six days that I’ve been contemplating this idea, I’ve gone from “well, maybe sometime” to “in 2017, I will” to “perhaps by September I’ll be ready to list the house” to “how soon could I have the house ready to put on the market?” At the moment, I think the answer to that question is May: I have some work scheduled to be done in May that should really be done before I try to sell. But May feels awfully far away. I know it’s really not — I’ve got plenty to do between now and then, including finishing writing Grace! And September still probably makes a lot more sense. But I already want to start planning where I’ll be going & how I’ll be living, not keeping a wary eye out for puddles and worrying about whether I need to get a plumber.

Today the realtor comes and this afternoon, if I manage to write some good words, I might take myself off to an RV lot to see if I can test-drive the model I’m thinking about. Good times!