Inevitable Journey

On the Jukebox: "Friday I'm in Love" by Dryden Mitchell (50 First Dates Soundtrack)
Quote: "Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you are born to stand out?" ~ What a Girl Wants
Flair: & Swedish Fish!

It’s about time for another personal update. I always find these posts the most challenging to do because I feel like nothing in my life ever changes. Sure, the scenery may vary but there is always a lot of repeated drama and static. It’s like listening to a playlist of the same song by different artists; no matter how different the music is you’re still going to get tired of the lyrics.

The main theme for 2009 seemed to be “Journeys.” I was preparing for one, taking one, or just coming back from one. Some were sentimental but most involved actual mileage. Grant and I had decided back in December of 2008 that we would move to Las Vegas for his career. I didn’t foresee so many false starts and stops along the way. Here it is January of 2010 and we still aren’t settled. even though we are in Las Vegas. It took much longer to sell our house (and we got much less than we hoped) and it’s taking even longer to find one here.

We’ve had to make a lot of compromises. Some involved leaving our belongings in storage in Utah and taking up temporary living quarters in a furnished apartment. I also had to concede that I wouldn’t be able to get a house in my price range with a pool (unless it was in need of major repairs) within our timeframe. Sure, we almost had one until the sale of our house fell through in Utah. Now we’ve offered on a home without a pool that will suit our needs if not our dreams. If we get it, we won’t take possession of it until March. That’s another month and half of apartment dwelling.

Apartment dwelling is difficult. We’ve been so used to having a large bubble of privacy between us and our nearest neighbors. The first time my upstairs neighbor turned on her washer I thought it was in my apartment. Their big German shepherd, Lucifer aka ‘Lou’, likes to converse with everyone but especially in the wee hours of the morning when they leave him on the balcony. I hate hearing the 2nd and 3rd story tenant’s taking showers. The sound of running water interrupts my sleep, along with the whacking sound of razors being tapped against the shower surrounds, the clearing of nasal passages, and the few that sing.

I’m guilty of singing. I try hard not to do it since I’m rarely on key. I even try to make sure I don’t play my music too loud for those around me. But I need it loud! It filters out the sounds of the noisy carpet cleaning vans, the kitchen wall neighbors’ fights, and Lou’s twilight bark report to the Chihuahua across the complex. Naturally, the water delivery truck parks in front of our bedroom window and idles for fifteen minutes with a Spanish radio station playing only when Grant is on swings and trying to sleep.

This place stinks. It’s a combination of stale air and the dust and cigarette smoke from outside. It’s hard to be a gourmet without a hand mixer or a colander. “My kingdom… my kingdom for a Cuisinart!” I never thought I’d miss my rolling pin so much… or my snorkel, 13 Going On 30 DVD, sand tray, or toilet mop. I’m just saying being rootless without your own identity is hard and therefore my neighbors must suffer because misery loves company (and hopefully Joshua Bell.)