End Game/New Game

Saying goodbye, too busy to mow

Within that same time frame, we looked for a house to live in. I found a house. I liked it. Big, quaint, sleepy neighborhood, and plenty of rooms for wicked things to go into. All check. The stress of house hunting, packing, dealing with work (and furlough) and life-in-general was pretty messy, and no peace for a writer’s (let alone a human’s) psyche. All things considered, it was like taking a nature drive, knowing full well the wild-life could jump out and dent your car. (Or get inside the car with you and start biting your ass) And it did.

We made an offer. It was accepted. But…

The new house had a flaw. The sellers agent made a mistake, and we learned of it a week before closing. Due to a very small clause in a previous contract… the house title was not clear. I was told it may go to the courts, where it could take months to resolve.

Insert: Souls writhing in the hell of realization that their lives may be spent living in Motel 6 (6,6) for eternity. And with a small dog.

Future uncertain, still frantically packing, stressing, time frame, Motel 6, work furlough, no furniture in the house, no time-frame, if any? Not sure where to land safely, squatters taking over… would this situation be resolved? Soon? Or never? Small dog. Fuck. Pressure! Temporary living quarters are not always pet friendly. I immediately began looking at more houses, knowing full well I was pushing our future out another six weeks.

Now the nature drive had become a wild kingdom of scary beasts gnawing at our minds and tearing at our throats. Except for Princess.

And then, on the final day, during the chaos as I was literally sieving the last remnants from our old house while trying to beat the police off the property… (because I couldn’t bear to watch them brake the windows and remove the doors) I received a phone call. It was my agent. She said I could actually close on the new house on June 12th! Holy shit! At least we had a plan! Oddly fitting, on the day of hell to learn a new door was opening.

The new pad, with Pod

Finally, life can start limping toward normalcy. Back to writing. (between decorating, unpacking, and marking my territory by brushing up against things in the nude) The picture above is our new house… and you’ll notice: no Godzilla blocking progress any longer.

So, though suffering with acclimation, I have landed again. Still breathing. Grounded. Peace, somewhat, at last. As I write this, the sun shines on the balcony outside the bedroom and the blackbirds sing in nearby trees. Home. A place for my soul, in a strange new house.


Until next time. Peace love… and no boobs? hmmmm… I have been busy.


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