Waiting for Godot. I mean, the green light.

It’s not a done deal. Yet.

But odds are that it’ll become so soon — certainly before month’s end.

I speak of course of my new place.

Searching Searching Searching …

To say the search for new housing has been a challenge would be a gross understatement! A challenge on every level: availability, affordability, cost, competition.

It appears that the 1-1/2 month search {egads!} is at last over {!!) and the rental mobile home’ll be it.

While it’s not everything I’d want or envisioned {literally} on my vision boards, it’ll do at this time.

One thing’s certain: It’ll be an adventure!

I’ve never lived in a mobile home park before! I did spend some length of time in an RV when my dad and stepmom lived the RV lifestyle for some years. That was a good hoot for them! For me too! Was amazing how the three of us made it work in a little space!

Anywho, after the RV experience plus 10+ years in Japan, I’m no stranger to small spaces! Not. At. All! My anti-clutter nazi is more than adept and practiced at what most Americans would consider abhorrent: NO place to put anything! haha You may definitely call me Ms. McGyver in what I make shortcomings work!

Soooo … there’s {mitigated} relief in having found a place! Especially in the most arduous season of space-hunting. That it took more than a month speaks to the severity of the search, not my lack of dedication and efforts!

P.S. I hope NEVER to have to look for a new space or move in July again!!!

Bittersweet Bye-Bye

Though there are positives and attachments to the space that I’m leaving — the sweet — there’s also rage and relief in putting the upstairs neighbors S. & Y. behind me — the bitter. I’ve penned and/or blogged voluminously on the torture of being beneath this couple, their sounds, wooden floors, thwacking swamp cooler (that’s still not fixed!).

It was bad from Day One, 9 months ago, and NEVER improved except during their all-too-brief holiday absences.

A part of me wants to give ’em the big ol’ finger with a shout of FU! when I drive away for the last time!

Another part of me wants to sob for what I endured.

Another part of me wants to shoot, with a rifle, holes into their floors (my ceiling) and yell: “Get some fucking rugs and make it easier on the poor soul stuck living under you!!”

Another part wants to just wash my hands of the whole miserable affair and move on to bigger and better — which to my definition means domestic peace without assholes in my space.

And he is an asshole, Y. the upstairs neighbor. Don’t care to elaborate; just leave it at that.

Gracious Goodbye

And the really big part of me wants to — and DOES — say thank you to the space. {p.s. It’s not its fault that it too is stuck beneath BAD CONSTRUCTION!}

I do appreciate the space and I thank the space for allowing me to be there for 9 months. I’m also sorry for the neglect at the hands of many tenants before me.

I know my studio feels the effects of all the good energies I poured into it. The deep cleaning of EVERY SINGLE SURFACE. The scrubbing away, on my hands and knees, of a decade of ground-in dirt into the kitchen linoleum.

Many are the things, big and small, that I brought into the space to raise it from a past of tenants’ neglect and unappreciation into the best it could be. Under the circumstances.

So I leave with love from myself and apology on behalf of prior tenants who’ve been less than kind or attentive to the space.

And Now …

Now I wait for word from the next landlord about the space she’s agreed to hold for me. I’m relieved and ready and just waitin’ for that green light … for, what, move #54? I’ve lost count.

Peace in my own space. A space for me. A space without neighbors and roommates consuming it. A space where I can breathe. And just be.

About two weeks until the big move … but who’s counting?! 😉


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