Since most of you have been following my tales for awhile now, you're in the loop of my life. At least the cyberspace loop. And some of you - gasp - I even talk with on the phone! So we are looped de looped.
Here's the deal. I will share the whole saga.
Let me start by proclaiming, moving sucks. They (whoever "they" are) say moving is right up there with divorce, getting run over by a car or being hit by a bus. They (whoever "they" are) are right.
Right now, I want my childhood blankie, some hot cocoa (it's 85 degrees out) and a tranquilizer - one that is big enough for a horse.
A little back story. Several months ago my landlord Julio Martinez told me he would be moving back into "his" loft - as you may remember, I wrote about it in Oh-my-God, I've Got to Move.
So, that left me with a couple of choices, move to Hawaii and live amongst the pineapples (I actually considered that on days I was totally into my fantasies), find a new loft in downtown, or jump from my fourth floor nicely arched windows.
I decided to start looking downtown. I even held a contest, where I was offering $100, if you could help me find a loft - which many of you responded to.
I became a woman on a mission. I walked the pavements, read the ads, met wayyyyy to many leasing agents, even took Hal Bastian's bus tour and came home most days crying. This place was too small...not enough light...no parking in the building...and on and on... until...I am sure when some of my friends saw my name come up on their phone - they did not take the call.
"Oh know, it's Nancy, again!" they were thinking. The perfectionist. The one who talks to healers to find out if a loft will appear. The woman who just needs to sign a lease already!
But, I was sticking to what I wanted. No way was I going to spend a bundle on something I didn't like. By the time I had looked at over 50 spaces (yep, 50) - I was ready to call it quits. That's when my Hawaii fantasy kicked it. I'd put my possessions in storage, live in a one room shack (but a nice one) and get Wifi near the beach. Yes, I would write Tales of Downtown about downtown LA from an island. Made perfect sense to me.
Then fate intervened a few weeks ago. A beautiful place in my current loft building opened up as if by magic. And in five seconds (maybe 10), I screamed, "Yes, I will take it." And the manager who no longer is the manager moved mountains to help me stay. So she won the contest. Then she was "let go."
Now, I'm dealing with a new management company with no phone number in Manhattan Beach. I don't know if they have my lease yet, if they even know when I am supposed to move in, if they've cleaned up the place (it was left a real mess by the former tenants), whether they've purchased the refrigerator that comes with my unit, or when they will give me the keys.
All I know is that I sit amongst stacked boxes, with diminishing food in my refrigerator. And that I'm moving downstairs. I think.
When all of this is over - I really will go to Hawaii and not only eat the pineapples but talk to them too.