ETA: I’m a genius. The blog is back in session. Please comment if you received an email notification and how many.
ETBSA: Good grief, I’m drowning in my own notifications. Really hope everybody received only one.
BTW, the WordPress 4.0 update caused the blog to default back to manual moderation. While I fixed that, comments might have reset to everybody needing a one time manual clearance. So I will check the moderation queue frequently to make sure all commentators are re-approved.
After 11 days of intense apartment searching, calling, viewing, and kissing a lot of toads, we finally found a place. (I’ll explain the move and what happened to the original place in another post. Bastards.) It’s not quite as posh as my condo (nothing will be short of winning the lottery), but at least I won’t burst into tears when I enter. Long story short, ninety percent of negotiations over financial issues have been completed – a few more hoops to jump through and the deal will be done. So thankfully, we don’t have to hit the panic button and discuss having an unexpected extended here with friends. While my friends have been beyond welcoming in their large comfortable home, I sorely need my own place. And Patty the pom back. (She’s staying with her foster parents in Michigan.)
So I’m standing on the very cusp of my new suburban life. But not being able to see forward in the metaphorical distance made me a bit nostalgic as I stood in the empty apartment gazing out the window at a prairie. Suddenly I realized that the hazy city horizon lie 26 miles away. After residing there all my life and living downtown for 25 years, it evoked a wistful yearning. I suppose it’s a kind of grief – an unwanted loss of part of my life.
It made me think of the following classic folk song that’s been stuck in my head. Oh Shenandoah describes a sense of longing for the past. One of my favorite burgeoning a capella YouTube singers, Peter Hollens, made a lovely rendition of the song. It’s a beautiful song which didn’t hold much meaning for me until now. Of course, I’ll get past this but for right now, I yearn for my own Shenandoah.
If you’ve been following my trials and tribulations over the last 3 1/2 years, then you know about the ups and downs of my illness, the battle, the job fiasco, the retirement, and the endless climb back to a fully functional life. It caused an enormous financial strain I wasn’t mentally equipped to handle last year. Then there was a severe relapse this past winter (which I will talk about another time) followed by the financial problems coming home to roost. Suddenly I was land rich but so broke that friends and family stepped in to keep me afloat and offer grave advice. So I bit the bullet – it was time to sell. I called the realtor and signed the listing agreement. Life came to a standstill while I dedicated all my energies to parting with a place and community I loved and don’t want to leave.
Nine days after signing on the dotted line, the condo was on the market. Fourteen groups, an open house, and 11 days later, I had a contract. The final dates materialized: closing day – Sept 5; walk-through Sept 4; moving day – Sept 3. Two days until I leave; four days until financial solvency returns. The move will be very bittersweet. So what will I do now?
Because I won’t have a positive cash flow until after the closing, making final arrangements for a new place is on hold. I’m in communication with one place and will get the ball rolling the moment the money hits my account. In the meantime, my stuff goes into storage and I will stay with friends until things are sorted. Patty the pomeranian is at her foster parent’s house during the transition. Friends are texting, skyping, calling and making sure I stay focused. (I’ll have to post later about my friends. I may not have many, but the ones I have are absolutely incredible. They are truly good, loving people. Getting choked up just thinking about all they have done.)
Men have just taken away the sofa that’s just too big to fit properly in apartments. It was 22 years old, so it had a good life. It still looks good, so it will give another owner happiness. The place is 95% packed. In the next 24 hours, I’ll pack this computer. Then the movers arrive first thing Wednesday and take away my stuff. Then I’ll sweep, leave the keys for the realtor, and head to the train station with my suitcase. It will be an austere send-off but that’s best. Another door in my life will close, while another opens. My friends say to look at this as a new adventure and I’m trying hard.
I will try to keep up with you all via iDevices.
Oh, you may want to look for me on Twitter next week because of… things. Just sayin’.