The Verona

After the drama with the neighbors, I started looking on Craigslist. I wanted to see what was out there. Do I want to move again??? Hell no. But I refuse to live like I have been living over some pettiness. I called this lady about these apartments, and they were cheap and right around the corner from campus. Out-of-state tuition?? Ha! Yet still close to work. I am pumped. I am psyched. I am ready. She knows I am a UC student. She knows what I am looking for. We meet to see the apartment. It is way too small for us. I think she homed in on the "student" part of our conversation more than she did the "Respiratory Therapist" part. As in I am not on a student's normal budget, nor is a tiny shabby apartment going to do for me and my family.
She can tell by the look on my face that I am not thrilled, and asks if I have time for one more. I tell her yes, but am really reluctant. If it looked like that, I really would have rather gone home to my mounting pile of schoolwork.

We follow her through this really horrible area of town, and I am chain-smoking, getting scared of the place she is going to show us. We end up parked on the street on this corner, and I look all around us at the different buildings.Which one. I see this one out of the corner of my eye, and don't really look that way because I couldn't bare the disappointment if she told me I was wrong. John is sure it is fate because in the courtyard, there is a flagpole. Underneath Old Glory is none other than the flag of the United States Marine Corps.

I ask her which building we are going to, and she points. I am sold.

We walk through the wrought-iron gate, past the fountain in the courtyard. The looping driveway, where others are not allowed to drive cars unless moving in, is the perfect opportunity for my son to have a place to ride his scooter and bike this summer. It is beautiful. My breath catches in my throat. My eyes cannot leave the arches on the balconies.
We enter the building and climb the marble staircases to the first condo she wants to show me. It has old-world charm. But it is not perfect. In its state of oldness, it looks kind of shabby. I am thinking is we can make it work with decor. I love the building. She can tell by the look on my face that I am not completely in-love with the living quarters, and says she has another.

We climb three flights of the marble staircase, my hand brushing the mahogany banisters and get to the very top floor. We pass through the beautiful front door. My heart melts.

There are two closets in every room, with custom cabinetry and chests in each. I can see my purses lining the shelves. There are enough that I could have one for shoes, one for handbags, and one for clothes, and still leave enough for John and Evan. I actually open the leaded glass French doors and step onto the arched balcony I was admiring from the courtyard. My office in this little house??? No. I can see myself out on this stone and brick balcony with a cup of coffee, studying or reading, or just getting peace from the chaos of my life. It is a cocoon for me. But alas, I must go inside and see the rest of the space.

The bedrooms are enormous. The hardwood floors in much better repair than the house we are in now. There is a huge dining area between the kitchen and living room with a gorgeous view of the street. My office. Built-in bookcases line the walls in several of the rooms. The future home of anatomy/ physiology, biology, chemistry, pharmacology.

We pass under the antique light fixtures, through the scullery that she calls a "pantry" (a long narrow room lined with cabinetry and counters on both sides, with a bracket for hanging pots and pans, into the kitchen with the worn floor, enough to look rustic and weathered, but nothing I would change. There is this huge cabinet mounted under the window, and she explains to Evan that this is where the milk man used to deliver fresh milk to the families who lived there. I love that is still there. Evan pokes his little head inside, fascinated that there used to be a day when you could not pick up a plastic jug of milk at any store.

I wish I had the words to capture the beauty of the place. Although it is in this enormous building, the space is huge. Our place now is huge, and you could fit three of this one in it. Even though there are many other tenants, it feels like a safe haven. Like we are removed from the rest of the world. Quiet, secluded. Home.

Now for the logistics of the thing. I developer bought the building. One by one, he is gutting the old and remodeling them into modern, gorgeous condos. The new is just as beautiful as the old. The new are selling for about $200K. We can rent one of the old because he is in the process of selling the ones that have already been flipped. He is not flipping any more until he sells what he has. The rent is about $20 cheaper per month than what we are in now. In the long run, with me paying out-of-state tuition, it will save me about $18K in the next year alone, without putting me too far from work. The downside is that, if all goes according to plan, the condo would only be available to rent for about 2 years.
But there is a kink in the works. The new ones he is selling for $200K? They are condos, as in divided into rooms. There are a couple that are loft-style. No room divisions. The same size, but other than the bathroom, no walls. The same finishing touches otherwise. The lofts that he has have roof access in addition to the balcony (the same balcony I love). There is one that has no roof access. He is selling that for a disgustingly cheap rate. As in my car was vastly more expensive than this piece of property. With that being said, if I hired a contractor to create rooms out of the vast empty space, I could still have this gorgeous $200K condo for about the cost of having a nice vehicle. And it would be mine. If I keep my payments about the same as my rent is now, it would be paid off within a year or so. In other words, by the time I finish my undergraduate work and face entering med school, the burden of paying for housing would no longer be mine to bear. I could stop the insane hours at work at the exact time when I needed to. This falls into my plan perfectly. And we would be owners of a luxury condo in my hometown, Cincinnati, right around the corner from UC College of Medicine. You see where I am going with this.

Worst case scenario is we apply and get to rent one of the beautiful places until they are ready to do the work to flip it. My fear is that if I do this, I won't want to leave.

Where Do I Start???

I am home. As in I can walk outside in the brisk winter air and see the skyline. It is so surreal.
The new house, well it has been interesting. Cable hook-up was an adventure, and my phone and internet were installed before Thanksgiving and we never knew it because apparently the phone jack was not hooked to anything other than the wall. But all is well now. I am back where I have always belonged. Cincinnati.

So I am here in my new office, just off of the kitchen. It is very drafty in here, but I like things cool anyhow. I can see cozying up in here with thick socks and cozy sweats with a piping hot cup of coffee, studying away. The house, or better yet, the part of the house we are renting, stretches straight back. In order, it goes like this: Our bedroom, Evan's bedroom, the living room, the bathrooms and pantry, followed by the kitchen. My little area is at the very back, and all I can hear are noises from the street. Absolutely perfect.

Okay so what next? Evan's school...We started my baby boy in his new private school. It is amazing how they treat the children when you are paying them large sums of money. His first day was consumed by testing. He did very well, scoring 92% overall for the tasks he should have mastered for first grade. On many of the sections, he scored 100%. The principal said he is "exceptional". There are some areas that need work, such as handwriting, so they kept him in first grade. But because they have such small classes, they were able to tailor-make a curriculum just for him, so the areas in which he excels will be handled differently for him than they are for his peers. When we went to pick him up from his first day, his teacher actually walked him out to our car and told us how he did that day. Our only main obstacle is that we need to find uniforms for him. Nothing major: a baby blue polo with navy blue khakis. No problem, right? Wrong! Have you ever tried to find a little boy's baby blue polo in the middle of winter? I am hoping that now that I am back online, I will be able to find what I need via the internet.

I guess the only item left to update is my great return to a higher learning environment. I have officially been admitted to the University of Cincinnati as a Cell and Molecular Biology major. I just officially accepted my small fortune in student loans to pay for this next step in reaching my goals. The stage is set. I'm ready.

Little Fires Everywhere

In healthcare, we have this saying. We call it "putting out fires". This is when you run around like crazy all day, attempting to get something accomplished, and never seem to succeed or make a dent in that to-do list because of little things that crop up randomly. Yet you work your arse off that day. Mr. X's SPO2 has dropped and you need to tweak his oxygen. Patient A calls saying she is short of breath and you must stop and give her a PRN treatment. Mrs. Y's ventilator keeps setting off crazy alarms, to which you must be attentive, even though she is ventilating well and everything seems to be in order. So you put out these fires all day, and when your twelve hours are over and you look back at the day, with feet that are screaming and a level of mental exhaustion you thought impossible, you wonder why you were so damned busy in the first place.

We put out little fires at home to, I suppose. With the upcoming move, I have been busy organizing and checking off tasks from my mental list. I was so releived after Monday night, knowing I had days off, thinking of all of the time I would have to accomplish these tasks, and even planning on getting some other stuff done as well. Well, here it is: Friday night. I am off tomorrow for the much-anticipated OSU/ UM game (Go bucks!), but then I report back to work to start a 72-hour work week on Sunday night. What in the blue hell did I do withh all of that time?

Yes, I did manage to arrange the move. The surveyor from the moving company came by today, so that is done. I have placed orders for the new phone service and internet access (Zoomtown, Yay! It has a very good rep). I paid the deposit on the new property and have the old electric bill paid so we just have to make a call and it will be transferred to the new address. The packing crew is coming by on Tuesday to pack, then the stuff will be delivered to the new address on Wednesday. I guess I did get some stuff done. It just doesn't seem so.

But then little fires kept cropping up. My husband, my soulmate, my light of my life, was to call the phone company and let them know we were to be moving no earlier than December 1st to ensure that we would have telephone service for the duration of our remaining time here. He did call the company, but failed to mention the date, so suddenly we were without home phone service. We tried to get the account reactivated, because at the time, we had no idea we would be moving this week. They actually expected me to pay an installation fee and everything to get it started again, with a new nyumber and everything, as if I have never lived here. For one week??? I don't think so. So I figure for emergencies, I always have my cell. Wrong answer! I forgot that when I activated my cell account, it was mainly intended to be used for the days I work (weekends/ nights), plus I could pick 5 numbers I could call at anytime. So basically, my phone was free to use at the times I needed to use, and I did not need the expensive plan withan enormous amount of anytime minutes. So...Without a home phone, with only my cell with a pitiful number of available minutes, we ran through that resource within 48 hours. Sad...Mainly, right now we are relying on email to communicate. I am praying that the new phone is activated early.

So we go to pay the deposit on the property, and the owner mentioned that there had been missed deliveries. Huh? It seems that the day after I ordered the new phone service, Cincinnati Bell decided to deliver the phone I ordered. But UPS did not leave it. So I was left with this tag that was dated 3 days earlier, letting me know that in 5 days, my package would be returned to the sender. It was 2:00 and John and I had to be back in Indiana by 4:00. But there was no way in hell I was going to make a special trip to Cincy just to pick up this phone. We were 10 minutes away. So we head across the river....

Holy Crap! John is driving because I still am not completely used to driving the new car in close traffic. I can, but judging distance has never been my thing, and cars zipping by me, close enough for me to reach out and touch, in a brand new car kind of freaks me out a bit. As is ohmyGodtheyaregonna sideswipemynewcar! So John drives. Did that fix it? Not really because John is not as accustomed to downtown Cincinnati as I am, and he had trouble negotiating the grid of one-way streets, and I could see his blood pressure rising as I was thinking ohmyGodtheyaregonnasideswipemynewcar! All to pick up the new phone. Not even a cool new wireless phone, but instead, just a boring new cordless for the house.

So then UC decides to mess with me. About a week ago, after making sure I had met the deadline and getting my official transcript sent, I started checking the status online. And it kept telling me the same thing: my file was incomplete. So I would call and check, and the people in the transfer office kept reassuring me that all was golden, and they just have not put it into the system yet. So I wait... Then I call 2 days ago just to be sure. That is when I find out that they need the transcript from a college course I took in high school. Way back in 1995. Are you kidding me? I completed 98 credits in 4 semesters with a perfect GPA as recently as 2 years ago, and they are worrying about one class from over 13 years ago???? Seriously? But it gets better. She then tells me that that day in particular is the very last day to get anything in, and I can have it faxed. So I call the college. I get lucky because they don't purge their electronic files until after 15 years have passed. Yes they can fax it, but they need a written request with a signature! The only way to do that is by snail mail. I have no scanner. My digital camera died about 3 weeks ago. What am I going to do? Then I spy my phone laying on the table. I quickly scrawl my signature on a piece of paper and snap a picture. Then I email the picture to myself so I can save it to my computer and insert it into the typed email to the registrar. An hour later, UC has the needed transcript. Now I play the waiting game for them to put it into the system as well.

So tonight, I have ditched the clothes I have been wearing throughout the day in exchange for the most worn-out comfy sweats that say "Diva" across the butt (which I refuse to wear in public. The person responsible for that trend should be shot!) and I plan to tackle the very last bit of Molecular Genetics, followed by a chapter on Evolution in my MCAT review. Once I get that finished, I will have polished off the entire Biological Sciences portion and can start on my Chemistry review. But Chem will have to wait, as I have purchased a copy of Phillipa Gregory's The Boleyn Inheritance, the sequel of sorts to The Other Boleyn Girl, which I loved. I bought the book expressly for my vacation, and have only read a small bit of it. It is calling my name in a chorus with the comfy spot on the sofa.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008: The Calm After the Storm

We are almost finished getting the new house in order. Almost all of the laundry is finished, barring about 2 loads. Internet and cable is ordered. Phone, electric and water installed and going strong. The change of address is turned in. I can start to relax a little.
I’ve learned that I am addicted to blogging when I keep a journal in the form of a Word document that I can transplant to Bending and Not Breaking when my internet is up and running. There will be a lot of posts on the same date when all is said and done, as I still have another week without internet service. Okay, off I go to hang pictures. Hopefully, I do not trip over John in the process, who has found his new home on the living room floor.

Still in Hell, But I Have Friends Here

Yes, we are packing. I have today and tomorrow morning to get as much done as possible, as I work all weekend. Evan loves playing with the boxes, which is not fun for me, as we are limited as it is. As of right now, neither of us are dressed (i.e. we are in the clothes we slept in, not that we are running around naked). Makeup and styled hair are not options for me at the moment. Who has time? I have just completed gutting out the storage area by the washer and dryer and have come up with a carload of crap to take to Goodwill. Along with this mix of crap were all sorts of clothing articles that I could not part with, and they have landed in the dirty laundry, to washed and taken to the new place. It would seem that D-Day is next Wednesday, so the plan is to get as much done by then that I can just load it and move it. John is of minimal help in this stage of the game. He just does not have the organizational skills to do this. If he were to pack, I would be unpacking at the new place only to find silverware mixed with Evan's outgrown clothes, mixed with DVD's and power tools. Since I am not taking time off of work for this, I have to be able to locate the essentials, so I can unpack them first, then move on to the other stuff. This is why the husband has been eliminated from this stage. When it comes to moving the crap, his muscles will come into play.

In the meantime, the house resembles a Crack House (as if I have ever set foot in one of those), and I keep stubbing toes on boxes.

Note: This break was brought to you by Marlboro and Diet Mountain Dew. Now, back to work!

Yes, This Does Indeed Suck!

Yep, I am in Packing Hell! We've only lived here a year and the new house is just a block away. I am trying so hard to resist the urge to throw everything in a pile of generalized crap and take a shop broom and sweep it down the street to the new house. Where did all of this stuff come from?