The last of the condo

Well, the condo is sold and I do believe closing will be this Monday, which kinda sucks as I have paid the mortgage and dues for September as the gentleman who purchased the condo was not going to be in town until this Friday.  Oh, well, I guess I will get that prorated back to me.  I didn't expect closing to come this quickly and assumed the realtor meant the 31st of September, which is a fictitious date as only 30 days hath and you know the rest.  Anyway, it looks as if it will be this Monday, which will mean more time away from work this month.  Oh, well.  So it goes.

It will be nice to unload the condo, aside from the financial burden of having two mortgages.  It means a real closure to my past, my crazy past, in the condo.  The death of a dear friend.  Finding his body will be the last and permanent image of him I will have.  That death really was the end of my considering the condo a safe home.  Then there were the crazies in the building.  The shut-in who wanted me to be her pal and play Jeopardy every night and keep her company.  Her rants became too much to bear.  And then there was the alcoholic Mr. Smith who, again, tried to monopolize my time with his needs,holding me hostage to music.  No,more. In the house I have me and nice neighbors.  No one truly obtrusive in my life now, save for everybody who is helping me out in my condition, what condition my condition is in.  The neighbor lady across the street is a dear, if a somewhat poor driver.  Vehicles come to my house to be hit by other vehicles backing out of driveways.  It has happened twice now.  Best to park in the drive if you come to visit, or down the street.  Danger, Will Robinson, danger!  Don't part in front of the Czarina's abode. 

Yes, the condo is just a fading bad memory.  The suicide attempt, the drinking, the sobriety.  The dear neighbor.  I used to work with the little guy and he helped me to find the condo and move next to him as I was in the throes of a deteriorating relationship.  We became close over the years and in the end I was checking in on him every day and that is how I happened to find him, cold as the snows of January.  Well, it was just a matter of time before I moved.  I was afraid to move, initially, as I had packed quite a bit of stuff into a small condo and was deathly afraid of having to pack.  But that was solved by the good folks at Sunrise who packed and unpacked me as I sat idly by.  The worse part about getting the house was first it being a short sale and waiting that out and second waiting out the remodel and having some buyer's remorse when I saw the kitchen torn out with holes in the walls and the bathroom destroyed.  It's all lovely now.  But for a while in January I was a mess.  Hyphen 1 was a saint, as was my reflexologist, both of whom soothed my jangled nerves.  Now the angst over the physical health and the lack of walking has put me in a short position.  I feel like I need more of Hyphen 2.  I think she believes I may not need a great deal of therapy.  Boy, is she ever wrong!  Maybe after telling her my trials of loss changed her mind. 

Loss is a funny thing.  What do we really mean by a loss?  A sports loss is so different that a physical or emotional loss.  Look at all we all have lost.  How is it now hard not to constantly think about our losses.  I obsess at time.  My family is mostly gone.  My friend is gone.  We all are getting older, which is better that the option but does not preclude the final outcome. 

And so it goes.  Closing is Monday.  Yet another closure in life.  Time to move on and make do.  And so it goes...a homage to Kurt Vonnegut.