So remember like two months ago, when I poured my heart out, and talked about my plans to move to Sevilla? And do you remember how I mentioned that I didn't have an explicitly clear plan, in lieu of the inevitable fact that life happens when you busy yourself making plans? Well my friends, I was right. Boy oh boy, was I right. Life is what happened ALL damn summer, which invariably prevented me from focusing long enough to eat, blog, or plan for my future in Spain. But as of Tuesday evening, I can finally breathe a little easier, sleep a little sounder, and finally start working on my "plan". But in the meantime, let me fill you in on everything that happened...
So in early July, my grandmother passed away after a long eight year battle with Alzheimer' disease. While her passing was not entirely unexpected, it was no less difficult for my family, my mother especially. Such is the way of a family death, there was much to be done and little time in which to do it, especially because the funeral was in Georgia. I don't have to tell you that driving to Georgia for a funeral really REALLY sucks. I do have to tell you that on top of the logistical nightmare that is driving to and from southwestern Georgia (four hours south of Atlanta ) in three days, there was additional CLUSTERF*CK of an event that made this trip one of most emotionally exhausting experiences of my life. Let's just say that when I got back, raggedy and tired as I was, the very next day I went to the Reggae Wine Festival. Not just because I really wanted to go, but because I NEEDED some quality time with my sister and friends, good food, sunshine and alcohol. It literally took me two weeks to recenter myself after that experience. And that's just the starting point...
Following my "under the Andalusian Sun" realization that if I die having never lived in Spain
[or Italy, because hands down the Italians are more fun, but Spanish is a more practical language, Sevilla is where my heart is, and Italy's economy is far worse than Spain's] that I would have lived in vain, I made the decision to sacrifice my beloved bachelorette apartment, and independent living, and get myself new digs and a roommate to save money.
[honestly, I had been contemplating it before, seeing how this is a recession and all] So shortly before the above mentioned event, a friend and I agreed to be roommates and we embarked on apartment hunting. I just knew that because we started looking early in the season, that we would have found a place, moved, and be settled by August 1. Well of course I knew wrong. August 1 came and went, and we
were still apartment hunting, and then August 3rd came and went, and following an exasperated phone call, we became I--who now needed an apartment and a roommate to share it with, just as the rental season was beginning to wind down.
F#%k.
Me.
SIDEWAYS! Can you say mass hysteria? Or profuse profanity? What about white hot rage? Oh yes, you can say all of those things, because the following 48 hours, I sounded a cross between George Carlin and Ron Burgundy in a glass case of emotion, minus the racism, and nothing was funny. And let me not forget to mention that at the time this went down, my car had been out of commission for THREE WEEKS.
That's right. After having already stranded me and Alihah on Memorial Day weekend (alternator died just a few short miles after crossing the
Bay Bridge) my once beloved '97 Nissan Sentra, "Trixie" had decided she was done with me, and refused to start on beautiful morning sometime in late July. This particular morning was, of course, on the day I was going to take her into a local dealership for a value assessment. That b!tch! But it get worse, because my mechanic, who I know and trust, couldn't figure out what the problem was. It turned out to be an electrical issue with the ignition switch--which the electrical specialist at the shop NEXT DOOR to my trusted and beloved mechanic had to fix--sans my trusted and beloved discount. Le $Ouch. I couldn't scrap Trixie and just buy a new car because I don't believe in, nor can budget for a new car payment, thus required a working chariot to squire me all over the Baltimore Metro Area to find a suitable used vehicle which I could purchase sans financing. Oh yes, yet another big $OUCH.
So then back to my living situation. Having been abandoned by one potential roommate, and the rental season slowing down, I had to resign to doing the the one thing I REALLY didn't want to: find a roommate on
murderersonline.com craigslist. I know people do it all the time and don't get murdered. Heck, one of my fab five found her current roommate on CL
[the fact that she kind of hates her roommate is, however, cause for concern], it's just I'm a little paranoid about that sort of stuff. I spent a large part of my childhood watching entirely too much 20/20 and Dateline, and have long since vowed to never EVER do anything that would land me in one of those,
"She walked off with that guy laughing her face off, and then we never saw her again" stories. And I also have Kona, and worry that even if said random stranger doesn't murder me, skin me, wear my skin suit like last year's Versace, they still might be a sociopath who would sell my precious poodle to a dog fighting ring over in "The Wire-ville" of West Baltimore. Yes, I seriously thought and feared these things. But after a few interviews with people, I was really more or less worried that it would just be strange to live with say a 50 year old gay man, or a newly divorced, tatted up Soldier
[who also looked a lot like Adam Levine, therefore making him dangerously attractive] or try and pretend like I could sacrificed too much in the way of space and comfort, just to save money for my dreams.
All of these things were happening at the same time, and somewhere between apartment/roommate hunting and car shopping, I stopped eating and sleeping and lost about 5 pounds, which doesn't sound like much, except on my frame it's plenty. So then my skinny jeans had slack in them because I was hungry and stressed and sleep deprived, and just when I thought I was literally about to
'round the bend, things started to look up.
In the last week of August, I found a place. It's everything I wanted [big bedroom, private bath, BIGGER KITCHEN], plus private parking.<--This is a big effing deal, it's more exciting than my bigger kitchen and gorgeous bathroom. And my roommate is my age, so now I don't have to worry about awkward generational gap in terms of me watching Jersey Shore and thinking it's the best thing to happen to reality TV ever.
Then in the first week of September, I found the car. She's black. She's fast. She's mine. I've already discussed her in
this post, but just so you know, I call her The Bat Mobile, but you can call her Drusilla.
But there's one last piece to the drama, and that was my current apartment. You see, my decision to move didn't coincide with the cycle of my lease. But my landlord being only slightly shady, agreed to let me out of my lease early, provided my ability to fill my apartment with a new tenant. After three tedious weeks of showing my apartment to roughly 627,354 people, and my moving date fast approaching
[umm next Thursday], Tuesday is when I started to get a little nervous that I had not heard from my Landlord about his pending reception of a signed lease and deposit check from a potential renter. But as my facebook friends can tell you, I've been all about having faith. And sure enough, something told me to call "Steve" Tuesday evening, shortly before I was scheduled to show the apartment yet again to potential renters. Well, as fate would have it, this jackass had already rented the apartment to someone LAST WEEK and failed to tell me about it. Um, massive landlord fail.
You see, if I were CRAZY, like my tightly wound coworker of a certain nickname [crazy Asian guy], I would bitch about Steve's failure to inform me of this pertinent information, and having allowed me to waste my time and the time of several other people, showing an apartment that was no longer available.
But I'm not crazy, I'm f**kin elated. I'm officially free and clear to move. Excuse me while I do a few cartwheels and happy dance like in bad movies, sans the awkward white people dancing. In fact, I think I'll do a choreographed number, in a public space, like in Glee. Because I'm cool like that. and I'm moving out and up! [For less money. and with PARKING. Shazaam!]
Now as you would imagine, I've got some packing to do. I'm also going to finally get caught up on reading what you guys have been up to during my absence, because Im' sure you've noticed, I've been like two weeks behind on reading your blogs.
But once I get settled, I'm going to be back, and it's going to be fabulous!
