"Life is what happens ..."

Dean died.

I closed on my Kansas City condo.

The movers will load my belongings in Champaign on December 16.

I'll pack up my dog and head west in my Subaru.

That's all.

And everything starts now.

Highs & Lows.

Several weeks have passed since I last wrote.  On the condo front, things continue to move forward.  I must say, the professionals I've worked with, including mortgage specialists, bankers, insurance professionals, realtors, have been exceptionally helpful and efficient.  I'm impressed and oh so grateful.

As of this writing, the closing is scheduled for next week.

I couldn't wait to tell my breakfast buddy about finding a condo so close to my family.  When I returned to my current home and expected to see him at breakfast (where we've been eating together every day for the past ten years), he wasn't there.  No worries, he probably has an appointment.

The next day, he still wasn't around.  He's running late, I thought.  Our mutual friend arrived and I could immediately see that something was terribly wrong.

While I was out of town, our friend had gone to the doctor for test results.  The results were not good.

More than three weeks have gone by.  My breakfast friend (really, so much more than that), has entered the hospital, has undergone humiliating and painful tests, and is now at the county nursing home.  His spirits are good, he is being well cared for, and he now know how many people  respect and love him.   

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to show him photos of the condo I hope to buy.  A smile!  A real smile along with a hearty grasp of my hand.

Healing.  For both of us.

  

Knowing what you want.

Last week I drove to Kansas City with a few good intentions:  see my family; visit friends; look for a condo I liked and could afford to buy; eat some fine food.

Happy to report, if only to myself, that my good intentions were rewarded. My friend, Greg, who I've known for nearly 30 years, invited me to stay at his home.  We went out to dinner when I arrived, down to the Boulevard at El Patron.  Good Mexican food and, lo, excellent El Jimador margaritas.

The next day I picked up my 97 year old, Aunt Charlotte, so she could join me and my realtor, in looking at condos.  It was a steamy, hot, KC August day and I didn't want Aunt Char to get tired and de-hydrated.  Fortunately, the first condo on my realtor's list was nearby and in the condo development I have always liked.

We walked into the condo and my aunt gasped (not for air, thankfully). The place was gorgeous and spotlessly clean. The seller is living there and her furniture is, let's just say, "high-end."  This condo "shows" great.

I've always known what I want.  I asked my realtor if she'd be upset if didn't look at any of the others on her list.  She said, "I thought you'd like this one."  We dropped Aunt Charlotte off at her apartment to get out of the summer heat and went back to my realtor's office.  A few hours later, after paperwork and meeting with a mortgage specialist, we made the offer.

All I know, is that the seller accepted the offer and we are going ahead with inspections and the appraisal. 

In a way, I can't believe it.  In another way, I knew this is where I wanted to be.

Fingers crossed.

   

    

Anne Lamott is wise.

Ever feel like you're one place but you'd really rather be someplace else?  I'm at my job, a wonderful job with terrific colleagues and interesting issues.  All good, right?

Yes, all good.  Except I'm having trouble focusing on what's now.  My thoughts keep drifting to December when I retire from my job and sometime after December, move back to Kansas City, my hometown.

So I think about, "Can I afford to buy a condo?"  "How will I get a loan if I don't have a job?"  "Will I get bored?"  "Will I find a place or niche to fit in?"  "Will I miss my life that I've lived for the past 20 years?"

Time will tell.  For now, I guess I'll just have to take it "bird by bird," as Anne Lamott advises.   

What's the rush?

Calm down, everything is moving just the way it's supposed to move.  That's my inner voice talking.  Hope I'm listening.

I know where I want to live.  I know what type of condo I want to buy.  One will become available at just the right time.

Calm down.  

Done deal.

Amazing how stress can fly away when a big deal goes down.  The closing on my house went off without a hitch.  Actually, it was rather sweet.  I so like the young (very) couple who bought the house.  And, I hope they'll be happy on New Street.

Now, I am in search of a new home in a different place.  My old hometown.

Forward.  

Frazzled.

Could I be any more rude while I'm driving (yes)? Why is everyone driving so slowly? 

I'm a wreck (no pun intended).  Feeling stressed.  Frazzled might a better descriptor. 

My house closing is scheduled for tomorrow.  It "should" go fine, but I'm nervous.  And I believe it will go fine.

Still, this sense of nervousness, worries, anxiety, whatever word you choose, I don't like the feeling, not at all.  Why can't I calm down?

Could it be that I feel so unproductive?  I must stay busy.