The Boy Who Cried I’m Moving

Before the end of yesterday, I had gone ahead and asked our realtor to restart our transaction. I’m so used to referring to things as “our” this or that (me and my sister) that it feels weird to say “my” anything.

The cat people wrote back that for me to travel with just one of them, that person accompanying Marvin while I escort Duckworth, is certainly possible.

This morning upon awakening I was contemplating the scenario wherein I decide Michigan life is not for me and that what I really, really want is to live in a world-class city with perfect year-round weather and to be a hospital chaplain. If I relinquished my claim to this rent-controlled apartment in which I have resided for 28 years for one second, I would never be a San Franciscan again, with new renters now paying astronomical prices. Briefly I tried to envision myself in Daly City instead? Or Stockton? 

I had ruled out maintaining two residences but now decided maybe it would be prudent to hang onto this apartment for a year, just in case. A friend had offered to drive cross country with me and my stuff. After deciding to keep paying rent here, I thought maybe I would take her up on that. Since I have two of everything at this point and am all set up to live in Ypsilanti, I could just box up my unread books and some clothes and kitchen stuff that would be nice to have, and go forth in a rental car with my friend. 

That would mean not having to move my stuff, which would be great. It would also mean that when I came back to visit, I would have a place to stay. Soon I had decided that, as long as I am going to have two residences, I may as well adjust the schedule so that I could work a shift at the hospital now and then. This meant that I would not after all resign from my job. I was planning to do that this coming week, to free it up for someone else.

In fact, I could be in San Francisco the majority of the time or nearly all the time; I could be here for three months and then go there for two weeks. That would mean not having to move the cats, not having to get Michigan ID, not having to find Michigan health insurance, and not having to find a doctor, chiropractor, facial person or barber there.

I could work one day a week nearly all the time, which would offset the cost of maintaining two residences. I have consciously been trying to figure out for months how I could have everything and give up nothing, and honestly, it felt this morning like I had succeeded, and I still feel that way.

With all of that decided, I set off to take Tom to lunch at Orphan Andy’s to celebrate his retirement; his last day of work was yesterday. It was a lovely day and everything seemed utterly delightful and pleasing, with the sun shining down and people wearing amazing, fabulous outfits. On a roll with making excellent decisions, I further decided that it will suffice to avoid gluten when I’m at home and that it will be fine to have what I want when eating out, so I had a grilled turkey sandwich with Swiss cheese and bacon, onion rings, and a side of what must have been half a cup of butter; this I troweled onto the top of my sandwich.

I virtually never see anyone I think is cute in the romantic sense, but there is a server at Orphan Andy’s I do think is cute in that way, and he was our server today. I tipped him $30 on a $47 bill, but left before he noticed; it was nice to think of him being surprised and happy when he saw that.

This afternoon was for ironing and various details pertaining to trip planned for Monday.

If I’m not moving the cats, then I also don’t have to do all that stuff to the house to get it ready for Marvin. My to-do list is melting away like the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz, but I had scheduled a lot of appointments with general contractors and handypersons and plumbers, and plan to keep all of those appointments. It can’t hurt to learn what they can do and what it would cost, and of course, I might change my mind again and decide just to be there all of the time. Making decisions is fun!