Wedged
Mom in all her psychicness said she doesn’t feel like we are moving this spring.
That could change if I found the perfect place of course. Which I haven’t. But I could find a good enough one on a dime.
I have had it in my head that it’s time to buy. But people are generally awful here in the Sixth Borough.
After being surrounded by super nice people in Vero Beach and Fort Myers and Key West, I’d be an idiot to be trapped in a mortgage here when I wouldn’t be able to find a true sense of community that I’d find just about anywhere else.
If I don’t move then I need a big huge plan for next year. Like a massive plan that includes everything but the rut I’m clawing my way out of in all areas of life.
In the meantime I’m not complaining anymore. An old colleague asked if all is well here now that I’ve stopped talking about it, or if I were just being me and clamming up.
Gotta love how people know me so well. The less I say, the more I HAVE to say.
Anyway maybe I can rent this dump month to month till something better comes along. We all know commitment terrifies me. Best to be able to flee at any moment. Because God knows I’m always thinking about it, even if I haven’t done it yet.
Till then, I won’t think of it as being stuck. Rather, I’m wedged. Like a fat girl in a tight booth. Just need a lil Crisco and I’ll pop my pudgy pork roast butt out when I’m good and ready.