June 8, 2012

On Serendipity and the Tyrannical Death Grip

Uhh...

So, my life is totally different now.

Once again reinforcing my feelings about the Universe and how it works.  (Yes Mom, I know that's not a complete sentence -- I did it on purpose.)  Most of it was the Tao.  Or something like the Tao.  Like once you stop wanting something, that's when you get it?

Yeah.  That's totally my life right now.

My last big post was on a very special day.  That day marked many important moments in my immediate life.  They are as follows:

1)  I Will Not Be Homeless
I realized that Worst Case Scenario in the whole apartment-slash-moving situation is not that bad.  Worst Case Scenario is Will moves into my shoe box, forcing me to throw out a bunch of old crap I never use and reorganize everything stupendously using my mad reorganizational skills, and we live merrily like we do now.  That's WORST CASE SCENARIO, PEOPLE.  We don't have to move.  We want to move.  And if we don't move, we will not be homeless.  We will merely live in a shoe box.  Not so bad.  Thus, spoiled beezie no more.

2)  I'm Skilled Enough To Do It On My Own
I realized that I do not need anybody's help finding a new place to live.  I thought that I needed an "in."  I thought I had to know somebody who owned a place or knew someone who had a place or was vacating a place or whatever in order to find what I was looking for because the market is so bad right now.  But you know what?  I'll do it on my own, dammit. If it's supposed to happen, it will, and if it's not then it won't, and I don't need to kiss anybody's patootie to get myself there. Period.

3)  I Will Not Be Defeated
I realized that I might actually >gasp< enjoy living in my shoe box with my Boy.  The thought became fun and exciting, and most of all: challenging in new and creative ways.  It became less an issue of feeling like I can't or don't want to, than one of I can and I most certainly will.  That's a fun feeling.

4)  I Will Chill The Fuck Out
In finding flecks of gold in the dog poop (or something that's like the silver lining), I  automatically loosened my tyrannical death grip on this entire situation.  I let it the fuck GO.  Or there's that other metaphor that's like ... You can't squeeze a handful of sand, because it ... Well you have to cradle it ... Or whatever.  Basically you have to let situations evolve as they will, and stop trying to control the shit out of it by wringing it to death.  I finally realized how wound up I was.  And I was finally like, "You know?  This doesn't feel good.  Screw these lame feelings."


So, in a nutshell, I stopped wanting the thing I so desperately wanted.  Because wanting it so hard wasn't getting us anywhere, and I think it created some unnecessary conflicts along the way.

This was all on that Saturday, give or take a few days of reflection and hindsight.

Fast forward to the following Monday.  I got home from work and I was really stinking tired. I start futzing around in the kitchen and the suddenly strong and overwhelming feeling to hop on Craigslist hits me in the face.  Now, this is not unusual, but this time it was distinct.  I'm on Craigslist all the time apartment hunting, why is now different than any other time I feel the urge to get on Craigslist?

So since I insisted, I got on the computer and the first posting under my search was something that appeared too good to be true (they usually are).  It was posted only ten minutes before.  Hrrmmmmm.... Suspicious.  And once I saw the pictures at the bottom I totally flipped out in panic.  Must!  Send!  Response!  Now!

I scrambled for the email in my Sent box that I send to potential rentals.  Now!  Must send NOW!

Wham bam sent DONE holy crap.  Whew.

Weird, all those crazy feelings.

Back to kitchen stuff...

Just a few hours later I get a response from someone who sounds unexpectedly normal and friendly.  It sounded like I caught her off-guard, like maybe I was the first to respond.  Showing on Saturday.  Time not worked out yet.  Would let me know.

Then the next day out of nowhere and totally unprompted, the guy who owns the building where we almost got a different apartment (but we ended up not getting by mere moments.  I eventually stopped crying about it) emailed me.  He said he might have a unit opening up at the end of the summer, and wanted to know if I'd like him to keep us in mind.  (When we didn't get the unit in his building, I think he could sense my disappointment, and asked if we wanted him to hold on to our applications, just in case.  I thought it rather nice, and said yes that would be great.  But, in reality, I didn't think that would happen.)  Lo and behold -- here he was, just days after all my spiritual revelations, and just one day after making contact with someone who seemed as normal as him.  I replied.  Yes, absolutely.

What strange timing.

A few days went by and I didn't see a follow-up email from the lady with the times for the showing.  Naturally, I remained skeptical of the whole thing.  You know, it being Craigslist and whatnot.

As soon as I sat down to inquire about it, she had already emailed me the times for the showing, not twenty minutes before and even asked if it "fit with my schedule."  Well, that's gosh darned considerate!

Again, rather strange timing.  And unusually cordial.

...

It must be a trick.  There must be something terribly, terribly wrong with this place.  Or this lady.  Three heads or no face or something.  Something.

I mailed back, said Yes Thank you Fantastic See you there, and left it at that.

I planned to go completely ready for anything.  I refused -- REFUSED -- to screw this one up like I did the last one.  Even if the apartment was a shit box, I was prepared to fork over lots of cash and all our most personal information like it was nothing.  I planned for it to be The One and was prepared for it not to be, rather than the opposite.  I even created my own rental application in Excel and had both mine and Will's filled out beforehand so I wouldn't have to worry about it.  I stalked the building thirty minutes before the scheduled start time in hopes of snagging her when she arrived, my two friends Charm and Poise on standby.

The next few hours are a blur.  I ended up being the second person to give her the application and a check.  I was nervous and anxious.  I wanted it so badly.  It turned out to be freakin' beautiful and perfect and soooo stupidly fantastic.  Goddammit, I want this place!  Fuck fuck fuck.  I was a disastrous mess on the inside but, as is typical for me, calm and witty on the outside.  The lady was so nice.  I was a wreck.  So many people viewing the apartment all at the same time.  People that look like nice normal folks who I might actually briefly entertain the idea of befriending, but who I secretly despise because we're essentially in competition.  I hate this situation!  Haaaaate!  So many complicated feelings.  So many tricky dynamics to maneuver while holding back the imminent frustration and looming disappointment.  Fuuuuuuuck.  Someone inquired about the follow-up timeline.  She said something about it being a holiday weekend so things can't be processed until Tuesday, and even then it might be a few days, so we're thinking in about a week everyone will know, etc etc etc.  Okay, so a while.  Either way, a while.  That's okay.  I can deal.  I will deal for this place.  Purely spectacular.  I'm crying on the inside.  Kill me now.

We left and went to a barbecue in Battle Ground.  I tried to contain my surging anxiety and fought to hold back the what-ifs, why-didn'ts, and coulda-shoulda-wouldas.  But being with other people helped to take ours minds off the complexity of the morning.  Ate some meat and guac, drank some beers, sat on the deck.

Ahh, yes.  This is summer...

Blazing sunshine, good classic tunes, a nice breeze, a tasty --

What the--?  A voicemail on my phone?  It didn't even ring.

That's weird.

Not two hours after leaving the showing.

"I just want to let you know that the apartment is yours, provided everything goes through.  We look forward to having you!"

As my tiny and exuberant coworker would say: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

I shit my pants right there, looking at Will while the message still played, staring at him wide-eyed and aghast with the phone in my hand.

"You will not believe what's going on in my ear right now."

"Who's pregnant."

"Nobody.  Guess."

"Somebody died?"

"Just throw it out there.  The craziest thing you can think of."

"...We got the apartment?"

"We got the fucking apartment."


I've been on a cloud for a week and a half.  I've drawn three floor plans already and mailed one to Ma, I'm having dreams about how I'll arrange the furniture, I've already planned the bathroom storage devices I'll purchase at Wal-Mart, and I CANNOT THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. The situation is truly unbelievable.  We looked for SIX MONTHS and it wasn't until I stopped caring did everything fall into place.  It wasn't until I let everything go and stopped being adamant and stopped insisting that things be a certain way did all the pieces fit together and feel so perfectly right.

And that's what it felt like.  Like everything was just falling naturally into place, because it was supposed to.  Not because I forced it to.

And I just CAN'T.  FREAKIN'.  WAIT!


YAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

<3

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