this is what happened when i found my current home: i was housesitting in a nice neighbourhood, spending a lot of time at the beach with a dog or two, and trying to deal with feeling depressed and lonely. it was may and i was looking for somewhere to live for june first, which was proving harder than i’d thought it would be, given that it was the annual spring exodus of students. my main trouble was the incompatibility between my budget and my desires to live alone, to have space for gardening, to have a bathtub (instead of just a shower), and to have a full kitchen (instead of a bar fridge, a microwave, a hotplate).
i was early for my scheduled appointment to view this apartment, and i killed time by drinking a coffee at the cafe and deli on the corner. i sat in a seat by the window, and looked at the neighbourhood: a lot had changed since i first moved to this city, when i lived just up the street. there were new stores, and they looked busy. second-hand furniture, smoking paraphenelia, a money mart, a rubber stamp craft store. the carribean bakery was still there, and now a halal butcher shop too. best of all, the empty furniture store that used to anchor the shopping strip was being replaced by a big supermarket. not only would there be groceries close by, but there would always be cheap cilantro (the chain has excellent asian vegetables too).
i was still early, so i went for a walk. up past the house with the apartment for rent. was dismayed by its dingy appearance, but decided it might not matter. turned right, up the hill to the park. was only just at the top and about to climb the path to the reservoir when i checked the time again. i had only a couple minutes to get back to the house, and i ran. there were two of us looking at the place, and the other girl didn’t even take an application. i did, and said i’d think about it for a couple days.
that night i realized i didn’t have my slingshot, my dayplanner. which had just about everything important in my life written on its pages. slept badly, went to art class the next morning, left early and took the bus to where i’d looked at the apartment. retraced my steps: the barristas at the cafe hadn’t seen it, but at least were very sympathetic. up the street, past the house, eyes scanning the sidewalk. turned, grew tired in the hot sun. felt frustrated. was about to turn around, find somewhere to curl up and cry, when… yeah. there it was, sitting on a planter at the side of the road: my dayplanner.
you know when you’re feeling so low that it kinda just becomes normal? it’s a crappy state to be in, except for one thing: sometimes, it gets to the point where something that wouldn’t normally make you think twice has enough power to jolt you to your very core.
i found my dayplanner, and decided that i’d found my new home as well.
i called the rental person and we met the next day. she didn’t even want to call my references. which was good, because one was a friend faking it for me, and the other was my ex-landlord whom i’d told i’d moved to california.
now. the question is, how do i know when it’s time to move on? i have a great opportunity for a fantastic new home, and i don’t know if i want to take it. and… i hate indecision.
(photo-> march harvest from my garden: bundles of mint hung to dry in my kitchen)