Committing to debt for 30 years. Clutching my heart only when i saw the date “August 19th, 2038”. Rational thought saying “i will have it paid off in less than half that time” but irrational chick brain saying “i’ll be 76-fucking-years old”*.
My friend, realtor, garage-sale maven and fellow trailer park refugee, KMD helpfully pointed at something shiny and distracted me. Arriving at the new condo at 2:00 pm for the pre-closing inspection**, we walked the place making sure that all required repairs had been accomplished. i was clever enough to bring the stepladder to inspect a disconnected sewer gas line above the master bedroom. i wasn’t clever enough to remember to bring a flashlight, however…
One annoyance? KMD noted that the seller had removed every single roll of toilet paper. Just rude. Upon further inspection, we found that the seller had left the washer and dryer. Ummm… ok. Fair trade. They seem functional, perhaps same vintage as mine. i can leave mine in place at the “rental”, and that’s one less thing to move and connect. i can buy toilet paper.
After the pre-closing inspection, we scooted back to my house to allow me to change into something less smelly, and to load both cars to start the moving process. Since the packing crew – arriving friday – charges for wardrobe boxes, but all other boxes/supplies are included, we decided to start transporting hanging goods. And we started with the end of the closet where my “party gear” resides…
What was the first box i carried across the threshold? Corsetry, of course! Two carloads later, it was just a bit less empty. i’ll be deciphering the light-switch structure for months. Had a celebratory drink with KMD, and i returned to the current homestead, met a friend, and we hauled two more carloads – and a six pack – over to the new place. KMD had left a rather spectacular – and wildly appropriate – gift for my new home. What’s a Trailer without Tequila? Woo hoo!
Still daylight, we made another run – and this time, i felt compelled to bring the guitar. It won’t feel right without it. Knocking back a couple brews on the back deck, overlooking the wooded creek, it seemed like a good christening. Festive girl-wear, guitar, and beer. Oh, and toilet paper.
Once the dog has acclimated? It’ll be home… (sigh)
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* Ooops. i think i said that part out loud. Fortunately the seller – a pleasant woman across the table from me, and perhaps within tooth-spitting distance of 76 years old – did not hear the comment.
** Minor repairs, but necessary. Found by the smokin’ hot, deliciously irish home inspector i’d hired, i had provided the seller the option of making the repairs, or cutting a check for $3500 at closing to cover the cost. They chose to repair the items. Damn. Might have made a nice pool table fund…
Trailer Park Refugee 