And just like that, it’s a wrap. The last week has been a whirlwind of decisions, packing, and parting ways with memories. I’ve been walking in circles, literally, trying to figure out what to pack in the POD, what to keep for the next month of my journey, what to donate, and what to toss.

Every step of the way, my sweet, loyal companion Sadie has been there. Watching, curious and calm, as the house emptied day by day, her quiet presence a reminder that while everything else changes, some things remain constant.

I started Sunday morning by putting on my big-girl panties and finally making a decision. No more uncertainty about the destination for this next chapter…I picked the place. New and fresh for our little abode. No more waffling, no more waiting for my job to feel stable. I realized that stability starts with me. Ten minutes from the sand in my toes is exactly what I need to sprinkle some sunshine into the continued chaos of my job. If nothing else, I’m finally getting my wish to live close to the ocean.

Next up: ordering the POD. Because I waited until the last minute (shocking, I know), my only choices were the smallest size or the largest. I forced myself to condense, choosing the smallest one. I couldn’t bring myself to part with everything, I needed to take a little bit of my life with me to the next chapter. Sadie watched it all, never once complaining about the sudden chaos of boxes and packing tape, just there to nudge me with her nose whenever I needed a reminder to pause and breathe.

Of course, in true form, Monday morning while getting the patio furniture ready to be sold, I managed to tweak my back. So I’ve been hobbling around like an 85-year-old little old lady all week, trying to pack and move at a snail’s pace because why wouldn’t I add that to the mix? Thank God for my last few Epsom salt soaks in my beloved clawfoot tub, which I will forever miss.

It was like assembling a jigsaw puzzle to pack everything into that tiny 8 x 8 x 7 POD. Thankfully, one of my ride-or-die friends brought the muscle…her son and his buddy. We shared some good laughs, discovered how sweltering the inside of a POD can get in 90+ degree sunshine, and had to air it out after one of the boys thought it would be funny to add a little gas to the situation. I’m praying that doesn’t leave a permanent mark on my belongings! Through it all, Sadie kept watch from the cool entryway floor, always curious, always close.

Meanwhile, I managed to give away my beloved bed, the Cloud, to my son, making it the most expensive piece of furniture in his apartment. At least I know if I miss the Cloud, I can visit, though let’s be honest, I’ll miss the boy more than the bed. And let’s not forget the pre-lit Christmas tree that had graced my vaulted ceilings every year, now headed off in a bird-dropping-splattered Mercedes driven by a young mother, baby and barking dog in tow. And finally, I said farewell to my Restoration Hardware dining room table.

Oh, and managing Facebook Marketplace? A full-time job in itself. The patio furniture, the antique piano, and the dining chairs each drew a frenzy of messages. It taught me how unreliable, and clueless, people can be. How many times did I have to explain that the antique piano from the late 1800s couldn’t be tuned? Yes, it can be played, just out of tune! The dining chairs? No stains, no rips—did you even watch the video or look at the ten photos in the listing? Add in a few scammers, and it was a job worse than working customer service at a theme park during the summer! People kept messaging with the same questions, like a real-life game of Groundhog Day. It was enough to make me question my sanity (and my ability to politely respond for the umpteenth time). By the end of it, I was ready to exit Facebook forever!

Amidst all this chaos, work didn’t relent. The villain of the story showed up every day, creating new challenges and forcing more hard conversations and decisions. And through it all, Sadie has been there, faithfully by my side, my quiet confidante who never fails to remind me that we’re in this together.

Exactly one week after sitting at the ocean with two martinis, exhausted and starving, I walked one block from our cute little cottage to find food, and a friend, to offer solace not just for the past six days, but for the end of a twenty-year chapter that shaped so much of who I am. There I was, having a salad and two martinis: one to honor the closing of that chapter, and the second to toast the beginning of a new one, this time without the perfect plan in place.

Because as I sat there, feeling the weight of those two decades and the excitement of what’s to come, I realized that when one door closes, another really does open, even if you’re not quite sure what’s on the other side. And that’s okay. I’m here, I’m ready, and I’m stepping into it—imperfect, but determined. With Sadie at my side and the promise of the ocean breeze, let the next chapter begin.

And who knows? Maybe somewhere in this new chapter, I’ll finally find Mr. Right instead of just Mr. Right Now.