She’s one of the animals I look after sometimes. An ancient kitty, she loves to sit on my lap & be brushed, and is quite fond of taking over the pillow by the middle of the night.
Before this stretch with Sophie & Izzy, I had the good fortune to be with Nemo for a while in July.
Before this, I was at another house, with two kitties. (No photos that time…)
Basically I was not living in my apartment for the entire month of July.
But I was there a lot, packing. Everything. I just moved.
Thanks to my friends, who helped out in so many ways, to support this past move.
Schlepping boxes, sanding patches, dropping off stuff at resale stores, bringing blueberries & pop, bringing good cheer, texting, offering emotional support over the phone & in person… I really could feel the net of people… & their support.
They were a huge help on a very hot day driving boxes from my apartment of 2 & 1/2 years to the next landing place.
Basically if I was there on my own, I’d listen to music or a podcast & pack & pack & pack after work before heading back to whichever place I was housesitting at.
Because the day I got there, the day I would officially “move in”, there was a distinct sinking feeling in my heart & my gut.
Something akin to: o no. What did I do?
A sort of “wrong” feeling. Like I had made a mistake.
It’s the same feeling.
Driving, though, I can just turn around, get off at an exit, go a different route.
Moving, and renting, & having signed a lease, a binding agreement, the stakes are higher, the consequence greater, especially since I sunk my savings into making it happen. (Rent is expensive in these parts…)
Reflecting on how I only saw what I was looking for, & overlooking the aspects of the place which were, um, funky.
But it turned out the landlord forgot to mention one piece of information which would have changed my decision to apply for this apartment.
“You could get a cat. That’s what the former tenant did.”
And yes, sure, I love cats.
But I’m not in the position where I can be with (my own) cat at this point of my life.
Now, aside from not having the money to rent a different place (including a security deposit), to simply to FIND a place in this town that was both affordable AND in less than a month and with no back-up alternate place to go (not to mention all of my belongings) was, well, it just seemed impossible.
And, quite frankly, I didn’t have the energy or the will to even try. Just moving that last week of July following the entire month of packing every day & cleaning both places while working just wore me out.
Yes, it’s a privilege to move with all of my belongings. Yes, I am currently employed. Yes, I am rich in community.
It still feels bad. I feel bad. Ashamed. Stupid. And then it globs into all the choices I’ve made in my past from places of fear & I just send myself into a sort of spiral.
Even though had I been given all the information I would have made a different choice.
The landlord isn’t going to do anything about the mice.
I’m in a year lease.
I’m buying a *%#^ton of steel wool to shove into any cracks & holes, and screwing welded wire over the really wide gaps.
And I’m telling myself that I’m living in a cabin. For a year.
(Thank you, Amy-la, for that.)
And at the recommendation of my wise sister, & then a friend, I’m going to look at what I appreciate about this place, AND what really doesn’t work for me, and apply that to my decision regarding any future places.
I appreciate that I can heat with wood. I enjoy stacking wood.
The woodstove was one of the four things I saw and said ‘yes’ to.
Wood stove, separate structure (that is, no one above or below or attached to the side), quiet, & a place to garden.
All really great things.
I tend to overlook the whole picture.
Living and learning here.
O the critters.
Wishing you all well on this night.
Wishing you gentleness & ease.