Ordinarily, I don’t like change. I’m happiest when my life is lived in calm little routines, when spontaneity is sandwiched between predictable things.

For nearly two years, I’ve lived in what would seem on the surface to be a perfectly happy routine: up with my son in the morning, chores done by lunch time, errands after my son’s nap, Hubby home at 6:30, dinner on the table by 7. My social life was limited to nights when the Venomous Hubby brought home work from the office, when I’d wait until my son was in bed then join friends at the local hangout for drinks, conversation, and (often bad) karaoke. Nice, predictable, rarely chaotic. The picture of serenity, eh?

Frankly, it’s driven me damn near insane.

I’m not the kind of gal who does well away from cities and suburbs. I’ve learned that in the past two years living here “in the country” – which is how they describe the area where I live. I miss having more than one restaurant to choose from. I miss sitting at Starbuck’s on Sunday morning and reading the newspaper without a gecko, mouse or cockroach running across my foot. I miss living on a calm street where it’s safe for kids to ride tricycles or play tag. I miss having neighbors who wave at each other as we get our newspapers from our driveways in the morning. Hell, I miss having a driveway!

Since moving to our house here “in the country” I’ve watched my life – and my interests – dwindle. I haven’t gone to a movie since Legally Blonde 2 came out. (Of course, that one was so horrid, I don’t feel I’ve missed much.) I haven’t browsed art galleries or gone antiquing. I gave up trying to garden when high surf wiped out my plants. I don’t know of any book clubs meeting in my area, and the nearest gym is 45-minutes away, as are most churches. My “social life” – such as it is – has consisted of meeting friends at the local bar for a drink or, occasionally, getting together with friends at their house or mine… for a drink. I miss having friends with whom I have more in common than the bottle of vodka we’re splitting.

Fortunately, a whole lot of circumstances collided to make now the ideal time to move. My son will be starting kindergarten soon, so I want to move to a school district where he won’t get beat up for being haole (white), where the teachers don’t speak in a mixture of pidgin and heavily-accented English. I want to move to a neighborhood with sidewalks instead of highway shoulders, where kids can ride their tricycles and play tag, where front yards feature neat landscaping instead of abandoned vehicles guarded by menacing pit bulls. With Hubby’s retirement from the Army looming at the end of the year, now is really the ideal time for a move.

Luckily, the market for home sales is hot here on O’ahu right now. The median house price is nearly twice what we paid for our home two years ago, and we should be able to make at least 80% profit if we sell now. Not shabby, eh?

So. We listed the house for sale yesterday. The first showing is on July 8, and before then we’ll be cleaning, de-cluttering, and cosmetically polishing the place. Meanwhile, I’m spending most afternoons taking the kids for long drives while we hunt for our new house. Truth is, I’ve been doing that secretly for almost a year now and have narrowed down the areas we’re looking at to three quiet suburbs with children of all ages, above-average public schools, and plenty of shops, stores, restaurants and activities less than 10 minutes away. There’s even a Starbuck’s, and I’ve made it a regular stop on our house-hunting trips. Sure, it’s over-priced but I’ve yet to see a mouse or cockroach there.

I have no idea how these developments are going to affect my blogging. No doubt, I’ll be pressed for time over the next couple of weeks as I prepare the house for showings. Afterwards – who knows? I started blogging to break out of the isolation and depression I felt after we moved here. I needed to interact with non-preschoolers, with people who read and care about news and current events, who don’t interpret debate as a breach of manners, who aren’t eager to start throwing punches or pulling knives over differences in opinions. Perhaps, then, it’ll be a good sign if my blogging gets light but regular after we find a new house.

All I know is that I’m seeing light at the end of this long, lonely tunnel. And it just so happens, the light’s coming from Starbuck’s. Ah, to live in civilization again.