Tuesday, May 04, 2010

The Addendum to Bliss

So, there are events that I failed to mention in the previous post that happened. On the 1st of April, I put the check for my monthly rent in the box where all the building tenants put their checks. Sealed away in an envelope including what apartment number I am, etc. Well, I included with it a written note informing my landlady about my intention to move out, but that, barring complete catastrophe of events, would be leaving. I did make light of the fact that I was expecting failure, and that I would give her more information as I had it, such as if I were to be leaving fo' sho'.

My landlady, in her infinite wisdom, took that as gospel, and even though I said that it would be likely that I might not be leaving, she began taking orders on my apartment. I was unaware of this, and of course when the job fell through and the housing plan fell apart and my life appeared to be in a downward spiral, I had my roommate call and tell the landlady that, in fact, no, we wouldn't be moving. I hadn't given proper written notice to move, but a written notice of a plan to move barring failure of certain parties that I had vested interest in. Yeah.

Well, I got a lovely phone call from my landlady -- she was going to kick me out of my apartment on the 30th, regardless, because other people had lined up to take my apartment and were under the assumption they would inherit it from me and my roommate for possession on the 1st of May. Oh my. Oh deary me. So, not only did I lose my job in the town I wanted to, I was having to ask for my current job back from my employer, did not have a housing option even available in the town I wanted, and was looking at getting kicked out of my apartment. So, I went from having a job and home to having no job and most likely no home. Definitely steps in the correct direction.

Well, my boss offered to take me back. The landlady, after some discussion offer to put me and my roommate up in a one-bedroom apartment in the building that was open. So, we'd be getting kicked out earlier. But, I wouldn't be jobless and homeless, so, looking up. But, I've discovered a trait I have -- when it comes to survival, I'm extremely lucky. I may not come out ahead, but I'm never at a complete loss.

On the appointed date when I was to be kicked from my apartment with my roommate, we got a call from our landlady. The person who wanted our apartment bailed. So, end result? I still have my job and my apartment. I still want to exchange them for a job and apartment elsewhere, though. But that's a tale for later...

Life is Bliss

It's been eventful, these past few weeks. I'm not sure what's going on. Mess is the definitive answer, screwed up being the secondary answer; and, of course, there are tertiary answers that follow a similar vein in methodology. The short version? I want to move and I want a new job since the current one is in line with gouging out ones eyes with a spork. The long version, well, it's the attempt to obtain those two things, which of course leads to the answers. Mind you, the answer isn't so much an answer as a descriptor of what the true answer should be -- a tale of woe. Not really, but yeah.

It started some time ago. I decided around the turn of the year from the old to the new, more current one, that I wanted to move. While the thought had been burning a hole in the back of my head for a while, sitting and smoldering on the backburner, it didn't truly come to the forefront of thought until sometime in February. At which point I began slowly putting things together. Time passed, and as it did so, I began to make plans. Simple plans, at first, but growing more grand as time flew by with the spinning of the clocks hands in their merry-go-round fashion. However, it would be far from merry.

The first step was to decide upon a time. The time, I believe, was set in stone. Not true, but hindsight is a wonderful irony in itself. I wanted May 1st to be that day. My D-Day. My wonderful, poignant day where the culmination of my efforts would be wound into the toy monkey with cacophony, cymbals clanging away to sound off my accomplishments. But a monkey I was, led astray by a banana -- in a sense, at least. The second step, of course, was to find lodging. I began my search online, looking for houses and apartments and townhouses and all forms of roof-over-my-head places that might accommodate myself and the entourage coming with me. This is where the banana comes in: somewhere along the line, I got it in my head, like a whisper from a devil, that I should buy a house. Mind you, I began to look at this scenario, and after what seemed an eternity, the idea seemed sound. The foundation, I would later find, was not.

As all things go, there is an eventuality. I made my attempt and reached out. I went to the town, set myself up on a blind date with a Realtor, and a quick round of speed-date-resume-pushing. The results appeared wonderful, like a lab tech looking at some fungal growth. There was potential. I was offered a job, I found a house, it all looked up. Then I went to the bank and discovered my first true hitch in the plan. They wouldn't give me a mortgage. I ended up returning home, defeated, but not downtrodden. I was revising the plan with new information for a new offense. A visitation to the bank back home with my parents yielded better results. I could get the mortgage -- it would only require my parents to refinance their own home to loan me the cash. This of course set off warning bells, because now the stakes were much, much higher. Nevermind that the government had just passed into law that morning that all exchanges of land, in the form of a home, required a twenty-per-cent down payment. Ooh, big ouch.

While I was working my head around this new backhanded and tactical maneuver by some unseen enemy attempting to oppose my move, the place that had offered me the job called stating that they needed someone, and badly, and because I was not in that town and wouldn't be for four more days, I was fired, and some other twit hired. Suffice to say, my hopes were dashed like a ship on the shoals of unseen danger. But, I kept a stiff upper lip and whored out my resume online to various places that were hiring in the area I wanted to move to. I kept my fingers crossed -- and it payed off. I heard back from a couple. We set up appointments for me to drive back there to conduct interviews at appropriate times. I emailed people who were renting apartments and townhouses, as opposed to buying, and found that I would be able to set up a time to view these places.

And then the irony of the whole thing comes in: the people who offered me a job, then rescinded the offer, called me up to ask if I could work. Turned out that the person they hired to replace me was a wash-up. They wanted to know if I could work, and when. I told them that their previous call threw a wrench in my plans and that I wouldn't be back for another two weeks, but thanks anyway.

This of course brings things to the here and now. Now I'm still going for interviews in a couple days. I've still got my fingers crossed, knocking on wood, and, you know, praying a bit. Can't hurt, right? Finalized results may vary, like with drug doses, but there's always that sense of euphoria if you get it right.