from outta the blue another space to view!

Goes to show, ya just never know. And things can change just like that {finger snap}!

My search for new housing has been full-speed ahead in the past couple weeks.

One place I was keen on viewing based on the ad got rented before I had a chance to see it.

I remember it well since the rental lady and I played phone tag and by the time we did speak, the apartment was taken.

Some 10 minutes ago I get a call. It’s that rental lady. Am I still looking and interested in seeing the space? The person who was gonna take it fell through.

Oh my. Am I interested in seeing it? Yes.

Am I still looking for a place however? Dunno.

Here’s the thing, I tell her. I’ve got an application in for a rental behind the library. I see no reason why it won’t go through but ya never know. Ain’t a done deal until the fat lady sings.

Soonest I could get the green light on it is today. Just depends on how fast that property management company does its thing.

This new place I’ve been invited to see is too available for immediate occupancy (following of course approval of the application).

It’d be a hoot if I like this curve ball of a place as much as the space behind the library — and with that one days if not hours away from final approval! I’m all packed up and ready to roll soon as a lease is signed. I’m talkin’ like a move in 5 days!

Whose lease will it be?!

Obviously I can’t know whether it’ll come down to a choice between two spaces until I see this new offering . I may love it. Or go belch. I’ll know in an hour.

However, does go to prove that ya just never know and how things can change on a dime!

And thus the wild ride in Adventures in Moving #52 (give or take) continues …


W is for wheeee! and waiting

Wheeee! Just like that {finger snap}, things can change.

In seven days, I may not be indulging my ritual of morning coffee and laptop, browsing the Internet, blogging.

I could be heaving boxes into my Subaru. For like the gazillionth time and that’s a whooooooool other novel!

My application for little apartment behind the library’s in. It had to be in by 11 a.m. yesterday. Know that sounds terribly late to most folks but that’s my arising time!

So delivering it to their offices across town by the deadline was a “special occasion” that involved an alarm clock and, unexpectedly, insomnia — not unusual when something special’s underway.

So I got it in with 45 minutes to spare. Now I wait.

Wait for the property management to do their checking. “Should be done by Monday” she said.

Wheee! An all-clear means it’s on — and swiftly!  The current tenant may be out Monday, then 4-5 days for turning the apartment around. If all flows smoothly, I could be making this move exactly one week from today.

I’m ready. Boy am I ready! Not strictly in the practical sense of having cleared out what I’m not gonna take. Plus packing’s super easy, quick and relatively painless because I live out of boxes — and have for years. I truly do.

Being a minimalist helps. As does having absolutely no home and making moves approximately every 4 months or so! Why bother unpacking if you know you’re just gonna pick up and go again in a few weeks or months?!

Not bemoaning hardships of a nomadic life — and an unstable life most often caused by other people and their issues and crap. Not today.

I’m excited for this move and have been since my landlord, in consortium with a half-handful of tenants / chronic complainers, booted me out.

I’m excited because each move — as arduous and “hassle-y” and a lot of work as it is — I mean, how many times have I loaded up that Subaru?!? — lands me in a spot better than the one behind. Even if by 1/10th of a degree, an upswing is an upswing and oh so welcomed!!

Wheeee! If I get this new place — FANTASTIC! I’m so pumped to relocate … to leave this current environment and unjustness, the condemnations and other issues … and to move forward into a place that feels more settled. Just six months at a place with peace, no roommates, no tenants who feel like roommates because they’re in my “home” and dictating my quarters according to their needs and whims would be a huge gain!

This move’s not just about leaving behind a bad untenable situation. It’s mostly about moving on and upward. Of having a space (even if small) for my self — not merely in town but on this planet. I’m into my golden years and never had that.

Wherever the next place, it’s not forever. Like I wrote, six months of peace and freedom from bad roommates / bad tenants and related conflicts would be a huuuuuuuuuge achievement!

Wheeeee! I like my odds of securing this new space. I also looooooooove looooooove looooooooooooove the possibility of both living on a hill AND behind the library!! That’s soooo me on both counts!

That bird’s-eye view of all is a great comfort to me. As a child, my safe place was waaaaaaay up in a tree, to the highest branch that could hold me. Since I’m petite and lightweight, plus very agile (“monkey” was one nickname), I could climb up pretty high!

The possibility of living atop a hill with view of sky and trees and the town that I looooove — and increasingly call home as I tentatively test the land and community for stability and longevity — excites me!

And living behind a library?! For this writer and reader and lifelong passionate lover of the written word and books and libraries, so cool!

So while these next few days of waiting have a nail-biter (now there’s a lifelong habit I still struggle to break!) quality, I’m optimistic and excited about the lil’ place on the hill behind the library.

While in departing I’ll certainly leave my current studio #9 meticulously clean, forgiving the landlord, the tenants, the situation and myself is the highest clean I can give this space. Better things are ahead. I can feel it in my high-spaces-and-library-lovin’ bones. 🙂

The path chosen too means the path not chosen

It’s 50-50. A toss-up. A coin toss. Either or. Six or one-half dozen of the other.

Whatever you call it, it’s a tough choice.

I have, as we speak, two options for a new residence. Each has its pros and cons, plusses and minuses, strengths and weak points.

Each is doable. Each is livable. And each is within reach. That is to say, as soon as I submit an application, it’s a close-to-certain if not certain green light.

I love having choices! There’s no question about that. Yet choices are demanding too. They demand that you know who you are, what you want in present time and sometimes where you want to go. They demand a certain level of self-awareness, truth-telling and realism.

The housing search has achieved its apex. The process is shifting from looking for a new place to moving. I feel it in my bones and gut.

Where do I want to live?

The studio (well, officially 1-bedroom) on the hill above the library?
Or the studio on the tree-lined street?

Excellent choices, each. Neither into the infinite future. But for present time, and on the occasion of a forced move by some not-very-nice people, more than doable.

Each time I weigh the pros and cons, I arrive at the same place: It’s equal.

Each time I call upon my reasoning, same answer: either.

Each time I palpate my heart for where she wants to go: either.

It’s about as balanced a choice as it could be! As true an either-or dynamic as it could be!

Thing is, I don’t have the luxury of hanging in limbo for long. Each place needs an application immediately to for the most part seal the deal. And one of the two needs an answer by 5 p.m. today. If it’s no, then the abode will be returned to the public pool.

Yikes! Talk about just a little pressure! hahaha

I’ll say that all things being equal, they’re REALLY not. There’s one element that weighs in favor of one place.

The lease.

It’s a 1-year lease at one place and a 6-month at the other. Normally, I think, most would favor the security of a year lease. No rent increases. Hard to kick someone out simply out of personal dislike (which has been the case at my current residence).

On the downside, a year lease means penalties if you want or need to move before the lease is up.

A 6-month lease — which is far more than anything I’ve had in the past 3 years!! — offers both breathing room and stability.

Again, it becomes nearly impossible to evict someone simply because another tenant or landlord doesn’t like you.

On the other hand, you’ve got some protection for stabilizing for six months, which in my book is quite a long time to live anywhere yet is not deep into infinity.

You’re safe for six months but not trapped.

I have a decision to make by 5 p.m. today. From this fork in the road, will I pick path A or path B?

Whatever the choice, my life is about to change considerably as I release my current abode and take up residence in an other.

In as little as a week, I could be waking up in a whole new space .. returning each evening to a whole new space … scrubbing a whole new kitchen and bathroom on my knees … looking out a window and seeing a whole different view than the wall of the next apartment building that I now see.

What will I do? Where will I go? In less than five hours, a life-altering decision shall be made.

But no pressure or anything. 😉

Days 2-4 in the Adventures of Move #52 (give or take)

And so the search for a new place rolls on.

Though my heart’s not in it, I’m looking at roommate shares — SHIVERS! — in addition to the far-preferred small single solo spaces. And an adventure it has certainly been!

Knock Knock

Who’s there?
Evidently no one.
It’s a room share, modified. The guy’s seeking two roommates for his apartment. One room, however, is off the main house. Got its own entrance, loft bed, closet and bathroom. Kitchen use is in the main house. It’s compromised solo living but affords some of the privacy I seek so worth the look-see.

Ring bell. Ring. No answer.
Call the dude.
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
{That’s the second no-show in this search.}
Shit. Bummer. Oh well.
“We’ll reschedule,” I offer, then drive off to enjoy a gorgeous autumn afternoon.

Outcome: Still haven’t rescheduled and not sure why.

Clutter King

It’s the first thing you see entering his apartment. Stuff stuff stuff computer stuff office stuff music stuff stuff stuff and stuff stacked haphazardly on two giant dusty desks that nearly fill the living room.

It’s not just that it looks like a guy lives here — and that it does! It looks like a messy guy. A not-too-clean guy. By the looks of the living room and inside kitchen cabinets, it’s borderline hoarding.

No way is this gonna work or happen. Not the room (modern bland). Not the arrangement (three roommates). Not the boxes and boxes of papers and god knows what else that swell beyond the holding capacity of shelving at the front door.

Plus it smells unpleasant.

“Nice meeting you,” I say. Beyond the door, I practically fall into the clean fresh air. I feel suffocated in that place. Suffocated by stuff.

Outcome: It’s clear to any reader. And clear is how I like my space. 🙂

Pillars Please

Built in 1915, with its painted green brick and thick white pillars, the Pillars building displays an impressive solid stately handsomeness and singularity on the residential street lined with aged determined elms.

I love classic historical structures!

The studio reflects its 99 years with the wood flooring, high ceilings and ample built-in shelving in the kitchen. Definitely need a high ladder to reach the top shelves and curtain rods!

Also true to its era, the single closet’s skinny and somewhat deep. The tired walls could use fresh paint and the kitchen a deep cleaning.

Its got its charms for sure. Feels nice in here.

Drawback is its shower only. A huge drawback to this baths afficionada. I love ’em like the Japanese love ’em and in fact the baths — the sento (public baths) and onsen (hot springs) are among the few things I dearly miss in life in Japan.

The living space in the small studio would accommodate little more than a bed, table, chair or two, you get the picture. The natural light’s ok. It’s affordable and the thick brick walls afford some sense of space and boundaries from neighbors at side and above. I hate feeling crowded.

Plus I’ve been stung by current tenants and landlord who haven’t been nice. They’ve actually been kinda mean, bullying, unjust. Yeah, I’m still feeling the hurt and the anger.

Anyways, moving on:

Outcome: It doesn’t exude yeah! but it’s doable. Lack of a tub could be a dealbreaker. It’s a Maybe, a plan B, worth keeping in mind. I pick up an application and keep looking.

Woodya Couldya?

Cool. Totally dig the dark wooden exterior. Like coming home to a rustic mountain cabin. Though of course there’s nothing “cabin-y” about an apartment complex with 30 residents!

Two 1-bedrooms are available. Identical floor plans circa 1980. You know the look with the laminated countertops and cupboards, dated dishwasher, basic tub. Yey it’s got a tub!

First apartment is on the top floor. Sunlight pours into the bedroom — niiiiice! And beautiful tree nearby. But oh is that major thoroughfare, noisy! I stand and listen, listen, listen.

Could it be done, living here?

No. As a sounds-sensitive, I’ve tried that before and more than once, living along a busy noisy street. The answer was no then. It’s still no.

Plus the rent is just beyond my budget.

We move on to the second available apartment. Niiiiiiice too: the back sliding glass door opens into a woodsy area. The faint ripple of a creek can be heard when you stand quietly and listen.

The rest of the apartment is dark dark. But the nature outside the bedroom almost makes up for it.

The rent’s how much?! Considerably more than the other apartment even though their floor plans are identical. The woods at the back door bump up the price.

I find my way out through the front door and despite persistent efforts on the part of the landlord to get me to reconsider, the answer’s the same for both apartments.

Outcome: Wouldya couldya make the higher rent work? Uh-uh. But still dig that rustic cabin-y exterior!

The Waiting Game

Sooo excited to see this place!

An affordable small 1-bedroom that’s (a) on a hill — I loooooooooove the bird’s-eye views of houses on bluffs, hills, etc.

And (b) is smack behind the library! Literally! How cooooooool is that!!!

It’s 5 p.m. I wait for the property management lady to show up.

I wait and wait. And wait. Finally at 5:15 I call her cell. Voice mail.

“I’m here. Waiting. I know you had a really busy day. Please call and let me know whether you’re coming.”

I keep waiting. It’s cold so I move from the apartment into my car to wait.

It’s 5:25. No call and no show.

I call again. Voice mail again.

I leave a message informing that I waited 25 minutes and am leaving. I’m angry — at the no-show, yes, moreso the lack of a call.

I wash my hands of the mess. Ball’s in her court. If she wants to call, she can.

Voice message awaits me this morning. It’s her forthrightly and genuinely apologizing. She mans up with an explanation, no excuse.

That goes a long ways with me. Her apology accepted, we reschedule for this afternoon. When she promises that she’ll be there, I know she will.

PLUS, separately, one more viewing in a super-quirky location early this evening.

And so rolls on the search for my new place. It’s been all over the map in a way. On the other hand, traveler that I am, I like being all over the map.

Plus it’s really fun to see other places, be they repellently awash in clutter and dust or rendered unseen behind tightly-drawn blinds and a one-time no-show property management lady.

The right place is a-comin’. Sure as the sun rises and sets every day. Sure as that train whistle ’round the bend streams through the air. She’s a-chuggin’ her way into my life, my new place. After all this adventuring, I can hardly wait to see what that train’s is a-deliverin’!

Dressed to the nines is one thing.

Living in a 9 is another.

Words speak. So do numbers.

Numbers and numerology fascinate. Numerology’s not simply a matter of 1, 2, 3. Like astrology, it’s multilayered, intense, complex and complicated.

I’ve enormous respect for masters of numerology. And, in my humble opinion, none is finer than Glynis McCants. None more masterful or aware of the meaning and power of numbers in our world and universe. It’s no wonder she’s so well known and extremely highly regarded from coast to coast — and Coast to Coast, that night radio show on which she regularly appears. 🙂

However, this writing isn’t about Master Numbers Lady Glynis McCants or numerology as a whole. It’s because I noticed something … peculiar? … coincidental? … or maybe not so coincidental around numbers.

Before I get to that, a quickie preface about numerology: Your name means something — and to a masterful numerologist, it means a ton, like your birth chart to an astrologer.

What’s in a Name? A ton actually. Web sites abound where you can enter your full birth name and a computer will calculate your fundamental expression number, which is derived from numbers assigned to each letter of the alphabet and hence your name. (It can also be done manually but the computer’s way faster! 🙂 ) I like Paul Sadowski’s site because it’s simple yet not overly simplistic.

My expression number is 9. Again, whatever your number, there are oodles and oodles of sites, articles, books that’ll plunge into its meaning.

The glorious and intelligent Glynis McCants briefly sums up the 9:

“NINES are the natural leader. People assume they are in charge even if they are not. If in a department store, people think they work there. {editor’s note: I cannot recount how many times this has happened!!!!!}

“They take care of everyone else but need to learn to speak up when they need help, love, and hugs. 9s often feel unloved or abandoned by their mother or father, or they feel completely responsible for them. It’s hard for them to let go of the past.”

Every single word of that’s true. Every. One. Curious about yourself? The numbers lady’s here … while this page guides you in the simple calculation of your birth path, also of primary importance.

What’s Your ‘Tude, Dude?

I also have an attitude number of 9 … a number derived by adding the birth month and date (no year) and reducing into a single digit. So if you’re born Dec. 25, it’d derive thusly: 12 + 25 = 37. Then 3 + 7 = 1. Thus your life attitude number is 1.

And the 9 attitude according to Ms. McCants:

“The 9 Attitude: The 9 is the leader. At work they’ll not just do their job but everyone else’s. That’s the Attitude Number 9: show me what to do, I’ll do it. When it’s over, they’re exhausted and drained, but rarely allow themselves to tell the people responsible.

“They need to establish boundaries so that they will not feel depleted by the people in their life.The Attitude Number 9 may have old family pain that haunts them, and the 9 must work through these emotions in order to be happy today.”

Oh. My. God. Frighteningly. Accurate! (ESPECIALLY the family pain and proclivity to overwork myself in slave labor into death.)

Where’s Your Crib?

Like individuals, spaces have their numbers too. Your numerical address matters — and it’s calculated no differently. Say you’re at 1435 Green Street. 1 + 4 + 3 + 5 = 13. Then 1 + 3 = 4. So your address is a 4 and thus carries the positives and negatives of the 4 vibration. (Each number 1-9 has its positive and negative sides but that’s a whole other topic!)

Depending on your individual numbers — birth path, expression, like I said, it gets quite complex — that address can be helpful or toxic.

If  there’s an apartment number, that matters even more.

Mine’s the Nines

As both my expression and attitude numbers, 9 figures prominently.

In uber-simplest terms, 9 is the compassionate old soul, the humanitarian, the teacher, the sage, the embracer of all. On the downside, the 9 carries and family pain and baggage. They haunt. Working through and letting go of the past are challenges.

Now to the clincher / climax. My first address in my new town is a 9.

I moved because my roommate assaulted me. Family history, familiar pattern. A 9 theme.

My next (and current) address: 9.

Moreover, my apartment number: also 9.

This place from the get-go has been about and brought forth deep painful issues from the past and family. Once again, and after only a couple months, I have to move for unjust and hurtful/hurting reasons. The past haunting.

Two residences and three 9s in four months.

That’s astounding! If not also a little spooky. Even for me, who backs away from believing in anything until it’s proved — repeatedly! Though not a native of the Show-Me state of Missouri, I very easily coulda been! Repetition catches my eyes. Ditto flukes. Ditto synchronicities. Sumthin’s going on with the 9.

Moving Forward

Literally. I’m lookin’ for a new place to live and now paying heed to the address. If it reduces to a 9, keep on movin’, I’m thinkin’. {Not that I’d avoid looking at the place; however, the cautiousness would be acute if the place showed promise.}

So that’s the skinny on the 9s.

Oh! I just flashed on a former residence 2008-2011 in Washington state, by far the most nightmarish of adulthood residences. One guess the address.

One guess … and for me perhaps yet another compelling reason to steer clear? We shall see as the search for a space not dressed to the nines proceeds.

A vision board out of lunar left field

Tonight I did something I’ve never done through many years of creating vision boards.

I sat down with a good half dozen magazines and purposefully created one in the “off cycle.”

You might call it a vision board out of the lunar cycle’s left field. You see, vision boards, as mentioned in a post prior, are best made at a new moon — the ideal time for planting seeds … planting visions.

Meanwhile, the full moon  — such as the one in Taurus two days ago  — is a time of harvesting, culmination and releasing that which has come to fruition, no longer serves or has outworn its usefulness and purpose.

What inspired me to go 180-degrees “off cycle” and create a vision board? A fair question.

Pain — only in part. The pain of being pushed out of my residence by the landlord and a few other tenants who are chronic complainers, have been intolerant and hypercritical and judgmental of me without having ever met me. In unison these parties have pushed me out.

As one who deeply and passionately values fairness — and reason — I cannot say that the collective actions haven’t hurt me. They have. Being forced out of my home by “the lesser lighted” was not on my to-do list this time around.

But: It is what is is and I will be leaving by Dec. 31 if not considerably sooner as the next right residence reveals itself. (Not for nuthin’ but I also do not want to stay at a location where I’m not wanted or unjustly perceived.)

And if you know groups, you know that they will bond together against a perceived non-conformist and cast him out. Human nature it is and sad.

Where I was going with this is … yes, pain in being unreasonably kicked out of my abode is in part inspired my “off cycle” vision board.

Yet it’s got comparatively lots more to do with positivity. I’m looking for a new place to live. Creating a vision board with words and images of qualities sought and desired in my next residence is an exercise in grounding and focus.

Unlike my vision boards made at the new moon that express 3-6 central themes, this “off cycle” creation has one theme and one theme alone: relocation and that which is desired in the next residence.

I chose mindfully, as I always do, the words — a collage of “mismatched” letters of all shapes, sizes and colors brought together and bonded by glue to form the words that matter the most to me, that speak to me and I to them in this godly and fated by Divine Design this marriage that are Words and I.

There are some images, significant images. Visuals and images speak very very powerfully to me. They’re my second language, close on the wings of my first, which is words. Images and words combined make a powerful vision board, even in the “off cycle.”

Too, this is a “mini” vision board — and not only because it is focused on strictly the goals and desires for my next abode.  Size matters — well, sometimes. This vision board is half the size of my standard-size poster paper used for new-moon boards.

As such, rather than cutting the poster paper in half, I merely folded it. With images and words glued onto only the lower half, when folded and propped up, it looks like a giiiiiiant greeting card in my (soon-to-be former) apartment! Only Hallmark doesn’t make cards quite like this. 🙂

It’s easily moved from room to room, unlike full vision boards hung on a wall — so that I may drink of its inspirational and encouraging messages wherever I may be sitting or lying!

Imagine if Hallmark did produce a card this size! At current costs per square inch for a standard-size greeting card, my mini-vision board might go for 20 bucks!

I love how my mini-board turned out! It makes me smile. Makes me feel positive … hopeful … charged and optimistic as I venture forth into recreating a better living environment.

I’m excited to see how this visioning off the lunar cycle goes. Call it an experiment of such.

Too, I’m excited to see what’s floated my way in abode potentials and opportunities — particularly because as with my every vision board, its contents are precise and specific. (Because I’m such the precisionist, “generalities” is an infrequent word in my vocabulary — and certainly absent in my crafted boards! 🙂 )

What does Matilda see for me in the crystal ball regarding my upcoming move?!


Matilda’s not saying. Or if she is, she’s saying it in Russian or Polish and I speak neither! Only time will tell. Very hopefully my mini “off cycle” first-of-its-kind vision board too.

Going … going … gone at the Gardens

There’s no growth sprouting at Prescott Gardens Mobile Home Park.  Not for me.

Tuesday. 5 p.m. I’m waiting for Bruce to arrive to show the mobile home available for rent.

I wait and wait. Then eventually call.

He confesses he can’t make it but is dispatching his daughter. While I wait, I’m free to use a hidden key to have a look inside.

Except there’s no key.

No Bruce and no daughter.

The viewing is rescheduled for two days later.

Thursday. 1 p.m.

I pull up to the mobile home whose exterior I’ve come to know well during long waits during to date two no-shows.

This time, I’m scheduled to meet with his wife.

No one here. I wait and wait. Then again call Bruce.

“Your wife’s not here.”

“Oh. While you’re waiting, you can let yourself in with the hidden key that she set {here}.”

I check. Double check. Triple check. Nothing.

“No key,” I inform him.

“What’d she do with the key? I’ll call her and call you right back.”

I wait and wait.

No phone call. Ever.

Discourtesies and disregard trouble me. Those notwithstanding, if they’re this unresponsive for a showing, imagine when it’s a home in need of repair.

I’ll never know. Because I’ll never live there. So completes this day’s search for new housing.

I get in my car and drive away, never to try again. Why bother. It’d be a dog barking up a wrong tree inside the Gardens mobile home park in Prescott, Arizona.

Day 1 in the Adventures of Move #52 (give or take)

Hmmmm, no. Definitely no. Another no.  And I dunno.

So went yesterday’s search for a new abode in Adventures of Move #52  – Give or Take.

A Closet How Big?!

About as big as a telephone booth. That’s the single closet in a studio undergoing an interior upgrading, which includes retiling the shower (no tub) and replacing aged windows.

They gray carpet, circa 1980 in appearance, is staying and will be cleaned. Hmmm, can a cleaning get out the ground-in dirt and stains?

Decent cupboard space for a studio kitchen. Too bad it doesn’t translate into the rest of the studio! Rent’s kinda high for the space. On the other hand, location, location, location — walking distance to downtown.

Funny, only a block from my current digs. Now there’s an easy move by foot and car!

Conclusion: Minuscule storage; noisy major thoroughfare; a pale “eh” vibe. Keep looking.

Wow! What Would I Do With All This Space?!

Location 2 is owned by the same folks with that studio. A 1-bedroom in a 1970s courthouse-style complex  that looks every bit the 1970s.

Ditto the apartment.  It’s clean. Gray carpet, white walls, standard-sized fridge and stove. One of the longest bedroom closets I’ve ever seen in any apartment! Long and skinny. Nice view of Thumb Butte in the distance.

Ample linens closet. Would hardly know what to do with all that shelving there or in the kitchen!

No WOW! factor. An OK place overall. Little in the way of character but clean and excessively spacious for one person with few possessions and no furniture save a bed.

Conclusion: Rent with utilities surpass my budget.

Good for a Student. Just Like She Said.

On the phone, the landlord cautions me that the place is small. Really small. “Too small for you, I think It’s a good size for a student who needs only a bed and dresser and desk. Go take a look through the windows. If you’re interested, call back.”

With eyes shaded by raised hands, I peer into the space through slatted blinds. She’s right about the bedroom sized for little more than a twin bed and dresser.

Where’s the closet? Is there a closet?! Ah, I see it! A short hanging bar and small shelf above.

The living room’s a smidge larger. Ample for a TV, desk and loveseat, just like she said. The kitchen and bathroom aren’t visible from the windows; ditto any closet if there is one.

Super pricey for the space. Again, location, location, location.

Conclusion: Good for a student with a laptop, books and little else. Or a monk.

Mobile Home Gets a Brake

Yesterday’s scheduled viewing of the mobile home is postponed by delays and miscalculations on their end. To be rescheduled.

However, on my volition, I stop by around 9:30 p.m. to survey the lighting. The mobile home for rent, you see, rests smack on the perimeter of the Safeway supermarket parking lot.

Safeway closes at 11 p.m.

“How long do the parking lot lights stay on?” I ask the cashier while buying half-and-half for the morning coffee.

“From 8 p.m. to 5 a.m.”

All night. Hmm. Yes. The light from the bright moon in a clear dry Arizona sky a day away from full can’t hold a candle to the market’s blinding blazing lighting flooding the lot and spilling into the mobile home.

Time stamp: The mobile home’s pending until I can see it inside. Perhaps while wearing sunglasses  if it’s nighttime.

The Adventure of Move #52 — Give or Take

I’m wasting no time in looking for a new place to live.

The move-out deadline is Dec. 31. It’s nice to have the breathing room and time to look. However, I’m not allowing these seven weeks to lull me into complacency or procrastination.

I hopped onto craigslist (crappy as it can be, still the best, sometimes only, source for rentals and room shares) immediately after getting confirmation that the landlord is not willing to rethink or negotiate a prior instruction to move.

I can’t win against group force even if the group be small. Win is not the right word. The right word is “withstand.” As in to stand tall and meet the headwinds and communicate and listen and be heard in a collective endeavor toward reason, fairness and balance.

The scale — I on this side and the landlord/his associate tenants/friends and owners on the other — was tipped in their favor. The move was not a certain outcome. Choices and demands (theirs) exceed my individual power and say in the matter.

I learned a lot in the short two months I’ve been here. And I’m ready to go, leaving behind this drama that has been integral to his residence in one form or another sine the start.

My spirit is raised by the change. Forces I feel are in my favor in a variety of ways, among them the seasonal relocating slowdown. The competition for housing is way more intense in summer and during universities’ starts than it is in this heart of autumn.  I’m catching that current wave of activity before winter’s darkness and slowdowns descend.

I’m not worried about finding a new place. On the contrary, I’m optimistic for that reason and others.

I already have two locations set up for viewing today! My ambition to continue living alone is running high — REAL high! I simply, for 1001 good reasons, do not want to return to roommates!

(Matter of fact, I was thinking last night that in the past 10 years, I’ve lived alone only during only three; the remaining seven years, all roommates. A lot of roommates! Ugh ugh and ugh!)

Not only do I want to continue living alone (a luxury I’ve enjoyed for a mere two months) but I’d love to live in a stand-alone structure with no shared walls.

A tall order? Perhaps; perhaps not. I feel stung by the design of enclosed space.

Or perhaps it’s my location within that enclosed space, on the ground floor, by the door AND adjoining the mailboxes that worked to my disadvantage amid a subset of residents prissy and prone to complaint.

Whatever, doesn’t really matter, it’s coming to a close.

Very shortly, I’m gonna view two available spaces in a duplex and later today a mobile home.

That’s right, a mobile home! Now that’s a first! And reflects how open I am in this search.

Though it’s in a mobile home park (coincidentally, just down the road from my former residence with the assaulting roommate), the stand-alone / no shared walls aspect appeals. Plus the price is within my budget. So why not have a look?!

I don’t have to move tomorrow — though I would, figuratively, I’m poised for quick action and closure to the current situation. It’ll be fun seeing new spaces! Fun to meet potentially new landlords! Fun to explore what’s out there.

I look at this as an adventure. And an adventure in new residence #52 or thereabouts. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve moved.

Speaking of which, I gotta roll — first viewing in 15 minutes! Later, gators.

Uprooting … before there were ever roots.

I wanna feel badly.

Thinking I should feel badly.

Thinking there’s something wrong (“wrong”) with me because I’m not feeling badly.

Truth is, I’m not feeling badly.

Feeling instead calm, joyful, freed. Freed from a prison — a small prison — not of my own making. Freed of a prison — a small prison — comprising bars created by a few other tenants and landlord and the ties that they have.

And at the front of this etheric courtroom a pair of building owners who don’t live on the premises and have never met me, seen me or put a face to the name on the lease or person who pays the rent in cash on time monthly.

Here’s the news.

After some two months of being here, I’ve been told by the manager to leave. I SHOULD be crying. I SHOULD be really really upset. Distraught. Beside myself. Pissed off. Frightened at finding housing. Frightened at the prospect of finding new lodgings in a town renowned for HARD-TO-FIND housing and EXPENSIVE housing.

Is it denial?

Is it shock?

Or is it knowingness that a better housing environment is in store and that this wasn’t all that it appeared to be when I moved in and was cracked up to be in my mind?

Is it R-E-L-I-E-F, a muted but similar relief that an inmate freshly released from a stint in jail feels?

It’s all of those things and more.

Truth is .. the truth is … there is much more rumbling beneath the surface than I spoke about to anyone.

There is a … consortium here in the building … allegiances / friendships formed by a handful or so of longtime residents and the landlord who lives on the premises.

There are things said behind my back between residents, between residents and landlord and between landlord and owners who have never met me.

There are rumors, misconceptions and above all misrepresentations. There’s been no one in this domestic mess stepping forward on my behalf. No one even really listening to me.

It’s been a situation of inequalities and imbalances — in communication, in expression, in listening, in characterizations.

I hate rumors and unfair attacks and this is a reason I hate groups! Because wherever you have groups, you have unfounded allegations … behind-the-scenes and behind-the-back attacks. You have people who don’t care what you have to say. They care only about what THEY have to say or do and their fellows.

Petty small-minded judgmental uncompassionate: the stuff of which groups thrive.

I’ll have more to articulate anon. For now … for tonight … this night upon which it is confirmed that I will be moving during the holidays — or sooner if I can make it happen — I need write only that I a moving after only two months here.

And though it is a bother, a hassle, an inconvenience, sucky timing and a hardship, it is not an unwelcomed move.

Not a distressing move — save for the distressing behavior  and mindsets of my fellow residents and landlord.

I wish I could feel badly. Wish I felt like shedding a tear.

But I don’t. I feel … “thank goodness this strangulation is over.”

I begin the search for better … for a breathing space … for breath. My own.