I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail, poisoned in the bushes, blown out on the trail; hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn,”Come in,” she said, “I’ll give ya shelter from the storm.” Bob Dylan
One week left until we move to our new house. In the meantime, we are officially still in limbo. Or as I like to think of it; brumation. (Loosely defined as reptilian hibernation) I am a turtle, carrying possessions in my truck from hibernaculum to hibernaculum. (Again, loosely defined as burrows, caves, 3rd floor walk-ups)
“The husband” has smartly discovered work for himself that takes him away from Maine and the chaos that ensues with a lifestyle of several 3rd floor walk-ups, new rules every 5 days, and all the fun of dealing with utility companies and DMV’s.
Thinking back to the day I first saw my new house I have to wonder if I was out of my mind. The tip off should have been the line of people down the sidewalk waiting to get inside. Standing in the drizzle, I asked the Realtor if there was free beer being passed around, or perhaps a performance of some sort?
“The husband” was once again out of town, so he and I discussed making an offer on said property over the phone. Isn’t that how most people buy a house? When he heard about the line of people, (aka competition) his true nature kicked in.
Him: “I have a way to settle it. A 3.2 mile race–the winner gets the house.”
Me: “Put a bottle of champagne in front of me and it’s a no-contest.”
Him: “I may not be in the front of the pack, but if running slow enough, I may see other homes to buy on the way. By the way, did you find a new rental for us in the mean time?”
Me: “Yes. You choose. The basement apartment; dark, one bedroom, very affordable, but far-away from the known world, or; the over-the-top one bedroom, fully furnished a la Martha Stewart, in the back of a mansion on the coast, barely affordable, but has a cricket field near-by.”
Him: “Keep looking.”
And so, while stitching together a patch-job of apartments to shelter us from the storms, we wait for appraisers, lawyers, and Realtors to hammer out a house for us to live in.
What’s happening with you, as you emerge from brumation?