THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

Now that I'm really single I'm actually starting to focus on ME.  My main goal is to shove as much money as possible into my "I'm Finally Going to Buy a House" fund.   I just went through a small spending phase, but I have my summertime wardrobe now and that should last for a few years unless I have a significant weight gain or loss.  Not too likely.  So...let the savings begin.

I know what I want and I know what I have to do to get it.  It'll take some hard work, but I've never shied away from that.  It'll take some sacrifice.  I'm familiar with that as well.

I'm excited.  If I buy a house in the community I'm thinking I want to retire in, I will no longer have to listen to the old man who lives above, with his incessant smoker's cough.  I won't have to smell my next door neighbor's boiling "Pot of Goat."  I won't have to blast my air purifier at night just to drown out the sounds of the neighbors slamming into the walls or banging their pots and pans around at 5AM every morning and 11PM every night.

Oh, how I'll miss the crowing of the retarded rooster next door.  His alarm clock is seriously fucked up.

No more shared water heater.  I risk a 3rd degree burn or possible frostbite every time I take a shower.  I jump around in there a lot due to the changes in temp - bringing a hint of realism to the phrase, "I'm just going to jump in the shower."   It's not pretty and it's not safe.

I won't have to avert my eyes from, or try to avoid completely, the tattooed speed-freaks that live across the way and always want to engage me in some sketchy, nonsensical conversation about nothing. 

I'll have my own little front entryway that I can decorate for the holidays.  Not garishly, of course.  I'll have my own backyard and patio where I can sit and relax and read with no chance of anyone bothering me.  I can invite people over when I want to, and they can stay as long or as little as we both feel is appropriate.  But they will be welcomed and comfortable and safe.   

I am excited about the possibilities my new-found freedom is bringing me.  Oh, there will be times I will still miss what's-his-name, but that too shall pass. 

"EMBARK"ing on a New Journey

Okay, I've found the home of my dreams.  I can't actually afford to purchase it for about another 8-10 years, but that's okay.  I have the purchase of the home sort of lined up with my retirement.  I am motivated.  I will be saving like crazy now.  If at all possible, I am aiming to purchase even sooner.  But since it's in a new retirement community, I will be somewhat dependent upon the, uh, health, so to speak, of the current owner.

I LOVE the floor plan.  Love it!!!  The model is called Embark.  It's not big.  But it's big enough.  For me.  I will have a place for family and friends to come and stay a while...and feel welcome!  I will have a kitchen where I can bake all the Christmas cookies I want to, and won't be hindered by lack of counter space.  I will no longer struggle with where to hang my clothes - the walk-in closet is perfect.  I can finally get rid of the many storage tubs I have...and the ones I keep will fit easily into the garage.  I will have a manageable yard that I can turn into my very own Eden.  And maybe a place for a small dog to play.  No shared walls with noisy neighbors.  Oh, happiness.   

There probably won't be room for any man to live with me.  For now that sounds devine!  For right now, after this past relationship and its magnificent "non-ending," it really IS all about me.

Yes, it's my 10-year plan.  I know lots can happen in that time.  But it's my dream and my plan and my goal.

Now...SAVE, SAVE, SAVE!!!

ROACH MOTEL

Oh mother of God!  I found what I believe to be one of these baby German Cockroaches on my bathroom counter about 11 minutes ago.  I say "believe" because I moved to smash it with a quickness reserved only for the immediate annihilation of these hated bugs that I can't swear that's what it was, and I wasn't wearing my glasses either.  I can only guess with some small amount of accuracy that it was one of these horrid creatures.  I am not afraid of too many things, but I am terrified, to the point of paralyzing paranoia, of cockroaches!  I have even learned, somehow, to deal with the occasional spider.  But spiders generally don't run in packs so I know if I find one, and dispose of it, there isn't likely to be another lurking nearby.  Baby cockroaches, on the other hand, are not sole wanderers.  Where there is one, there are bound to be hundreds more.  And where there are babies, there are moms and dads!!  Holy crap!  I will not sleep easily tonight.  Or for many nights to come.  I've already unloaded nearly a full can of Raid! in my tiny bathroom.  I've checked everywhere, but am unable to find an opening (or, thankfully, any more roaches).  I've sprayed enough bug spray to kill a Capuchin monkey, but I would be less afraid of that!  And I really do not like monkeys!!  Especially ones that wear clothes.  My jaw might drop in wonder, but I would not get the "screaming terrors" either.

Now I know - I did hear my neighbors (of the white-trash tattooed variety) correctly the other evening when there were a few outbursts of, "Shit!  A cockroach!!! "  And, "Fuck!  There's another one!!"  I was truly hoping they were just seriously high and perhaps hallucinating. 

I've lived here for over four years now and I've seen a silverfish here and there.  No, I don't like those either.  They're prehistoric grossness in a silver powdery fish-shaped package - but I'm not afraid of them.  I don't get the shakes when I see one.  And I don't worry that they'll overtake my small apartment.  And I don't resort to turning on a light in a darkened room and doing a full visual sweep before proceeding into it with great caution.  But I have never seen a cockroach here.  NEVER!!!    

For now, I'll close the door to that little room and pray I see no more when I open it, with great care, in the morning.  I also hope that I was wrong and this was some lone traveler of another species completely and thoroughly unrelated to the dreadful cockroach.  And maybe the only roaches around here are those being smoked by the neighbors.  Oh God...I can only hope.

Next call, should I spy another, is to the landlord...he loves to hear from me.

Photo courtesy of 'epestsupply.com' 

Speedo-Man and the Community Pool

Feels like summer out there.  I spent some quiet time this morning out by the pool (after my morning cup of coffee and before tackling my errands).  I've learned early on living here that if you get out to the pool before 11:00AM (preferably 10:00AM), you can enjoy the pool in utter solitude for a good hour or so - just the way I like it.  The younger adults are too hungover to be out that early.  The sun would probably scorch their alcohol-infused skin.  The little kids are still inside eating cereal and watching cartoons.  And the older folks rarely come out there at all, with the exception of occasional appearances by Speedo-Man.

Lucky me - I often have the pool all to myself. 

It's one of my guilty pleasures.  Always has been.  Just laying by the pool on a nice warm day and reading a good book or perusing, mindlessly, the most current "US Weekly."  Lord knows I don't want to be behind on any Kardashian-related "news."  Kim wants to run for mayor of Glendale.  It's  part of her 5-year plan, I guess.  Well, good for her - at least she has one.  And Tori Spelling is pregnant again.  Riveting.     

Speedo-Man's daughter is in town visiting so I can relax poolside without wondering if/where he is lurking or if/when he will appear.  There's just something wrong about a man in his early '70s going out in public in nothing more than a Speedo.  Or any man, for that matter.  I don't care what kind of shape you're in, no one wants to see it.  I mean, it's not like he's walking up to the liquor store like that.  Or jogging to Trader Joe's.  But still...he's going past my window...and often.  More than once, while I've been dozing by the pool, thinking I was all alone, I open my eyes only to realize he's plopped his Speedo-clad body onto the lounge chair next to mine...sans towel.  Ew!  That's akin to using gym equipment and not wiping it down afterward.  In any case, when he does that, I find it's my cue to exit stage left...or right...or whichever is the quickest route out of the pool area so I can go home and shower.  His ogling makes me feel so dirty.  After all, to him I AM a younger woman. 

But today was glorious.  No one around.  Got my tan on.  Yes, I do slather on the sunscreen these days and don't spend nearly as much time baking out there as I did in my younger days.  I just enjoy the warmth and get my fill of Vitamin D.  I'm aware now of the damage that mean old sun can do.  But it feels so good out there, I doubt I'll ever stop completely.

JoeJoe the Tattoo-faced Boy

The beauty of living in Melrose Place is the wonderful array of colorful people who live here.  Yes, I'm being sarcastic.  I find most of these people insanely annoying and useless.  One in particular, a newer resident, is a young'ish man-boy I refer to as "JoeJoe the Tattoo-faced Boy."   He's 38 for cryin' out loud.    He and his girlfriend moved in about six months ago.  Oh, what a joyous day that was.  I thought, when the day after he moved in he was arrested and actually incarcerated, that things were already starting to look up.  Well, nothing lasts forever.  Three months after he was locked up, he was released and he returned to the only home he had.  Even though his prior length of residency here was less than 48 hours.  His young girlfriend, bless her little heart, allowed him to move back in with her.  What a sweetie.  Yes, more sarcasm.  He's an unemployed self-proclaimed tattoo "artist" who is tattooed all over - including his face and neck (ouch).  He's a criminal and a junkie.  Yes, that does mean he uses/abuses heroin.  He refers to himself as a "recovering addict."  Ummm, okay.  Sure.  If that makes him feel better and he thinks others are buying it.

Don't ask how I know things about him.  It's irrelevant and I won't tell you. 

Normally, I'm at work during the weekdays.  Well, I happened to be home for part of a mid-week day.  Boy, the things I miss.  I got to witness a sampling of the fights that occur between JoeJoe (of course that's not his real name...although it may be close to it) and his girlfriend.  Here's a little bit of what I got to witness (warning...foul language follows): 

She yells at him for getting loaded, he denies it, she yells at him to get out, he jumps on his little bike, tucks his skateboard under his arm, and pedals away while yelling "FUCK YOU!!!"  She then chases after him begging him not to go.  "Please don't leave.  I love you, JoeJoe!"  He comes back, secretly happy that he has a place to keep his bicycle and skateboard so he doesn't have to stash them under a random bush where they will be stolen at some point down the road by a savvy hobo) and she cries and sobs about how sorry she is, secretly thinking that she has no self confidence whatsoever and this is all she deserves but still won this one.  And on and on...

In the meantime, I'm secretly thinking that he is getting loaded again and will soon get re-arrested, violating the conditions of his parole, and he will get locked up for a long period of time.  At which point, he will be evicted from Melrose Place (the manager said that will happen if there are any more problems over there) and I won't have to listen to anymore of their heinous, foul, repetitive arguments.

Also, I'm thinking that maybe the girlfriend will then have time to find some of that lost self confidence, pull herself together, find some inner strength and cut the loser from her life.  Maybe she can learn to put some of that kind-heartedness where it will be truly beneficial to someone who really appreciates her sweet soul.

Okay...I'm hoping for this really hard.  Maybe even out loud.

Melrose Place

Okay, so something exciting doesn't happen to me everyday.  In the meantime, I'll fill you in a little bit on where I live.  It's an apartment complex...courtyard type.  It is often referred to by the locals as "Melrose Place."  There are a few subtle differences though.  There are no cute wooden doors or archways.  There is a pool in the center of it all, but no gorgeous bodies lounging around it.  And no hot pool guy.  The tenants are not exactly young, beautiful, or professional.  Certainly not any combination of the three.  No, it's not a senior living complex either.  I'm middle-aged, not over-the-hill.  There are a few nice people living here.  Some are senior citizens, some are family people with small children, and some actually have jobs.  There is diversity.  There are a few apartments that exceed maximum occupancy.  There is an unusually high number of loud, vulgar, pot-smoking, white trash, useless, tattooed, drunk individuals living here.  Some are cohabitating, but I hope to God not procreating!  You'll hear more about them.  I loathe them.  I don't so much mind the tattoos - freedom of expression and all that - I just despise who the tattoos are attached to.

I'll fill you in later on the "Church Girls," "Speedo Man," "5150 the Music Mogul," "JoeJoe the Tattoo-Faced Boy," and "Peeping Juan."  It's a colorful place.  Can't we all just get along?