After writing my most recent post, I found I had to create a new blog post category for it. The category?
After writing my most recent post, I found I had to create a new blog post category for it. The category?
As you probably know, I have been living with my parents for the last few months. Actually, in looking at the date, we’re coming up on five. Five months of living with mom and dad.
I have been very grateful for all their help, but lately (like the last two months or so), I have definitely been feeling ready to move on. The problem is there was a disconnect between my feeling emotionally ready to move out and having all the other pieces fall in place (like, um, a job, a place to live, etc.).
My goal has been to move to the nearby Big City for a number of reasons (friends there already, Jewish community, great place to live, close to family). The main snags in moving to Big City is a) no job yet and b) is very expensive. In fact, when I would tell people my plans, often, many people would mention how expensive it is to live there–of course, this is compared to the place my parents live, which is EXTREMELY economical, but emotionally not really an option for me for a number of reasons.
A couple of weeks ago, I saw my good friend, the Domestic Wonder Woman. When I saw her, one of my goals was to ask about our mutual friend, “Nanette,” or more specifically, Nanette’s house. You see, Nanette owns a house in “my” Big City, but she does not live in it. Nanette has a very exciting job as a stage manager for a certain company and spends much time travelling and living in other places, which apparently she likes to do, because she has been living thusly for years. The Domestic Wonder Woman thought Nanette (her best friend from forever) would love to have another tenant (she already has one–but DWW spoke highly of her), so I wrote Nanette an email (actually a fa.cebook message) and waited for her reply. And waited. And waited. (OK, it was only like four days, but it felt like an eternity.)
FINALLY, Nanette wrote back. And this is what she said:
I squealed aloud from my desk when I read your email….(it kinda gave away the fact that I WASN’T working, oops!) I would LOVE for you to come live at my house.
And let me enumerate the benefits for you:
There are still some logistics to work out, not the least of which is, when I will actually move in. I’d like to move in tomorrow, but I can’t do that without Mom and Dad’s help before getting a job, and I don’t know how up for that they’d be. Meanwhile I am applying for jobs like a madwoman. The good news is, I won’t feel so crunched if all I can get is one of the lower paying jobs, as my rent/utilities/etc. are! so! low! And this in the “expensive” city!
I know it isn’t perfect (what is?). I would prefer to not have a housemate, and when Nanette (infrequently) blows through town, I’ll probably need to give up my bed to her. But, really, it would be hard to get better than this. I never even imagined I would end up in a place with a yard for Miss Famous. And to not have to worry about furnishing an apartment from practically scratch is such an economic help as well. I am so excited, I can’t even tell you.
Now I just need a cotton-pickin’ job.
Well Miss Famous was let loose from her leash (love my alliteration?) by my niece and went on a romp with some deer the other day. Ever since she’s been limping around. I thought she got something in her back paw; my dad realized this morning that it seems to be her front shoulder that is bothering her. Doggy-mommy fail. She’s really quite pitiful–just laying around, not jumping up to see who’s going out the door, etc. Hopefully she perks up by the weekend’s end, but if not, I will definitely take her to see the doggy doctor. Poor baby.
I saw an old, old friend of mine yesterday in the nearby Big City that I hope to make my home soon. This is a friend with whom I was close in high school and college and then things just drifted. I kind of put that on religious/ideological differences, but who knows, really? So, over lunch I had to go through a much abbreviated version of “what happened,” as we hadn’t been friends for a while before X and I even got together. She did refer to X as a “sociopath” more than once, however, which kind of took me aback to hear it put that way, but is probably true. It’s just weird to hear it in such a professional way. (She’s an attorney and this seems to be more her kind of language than the social-worky–yes, it’s a word, I promise–descriptions I’ve been used to.) Apparently this whole re-hashing was tougher on me than I thought, as I was kind of in the doldrums the rest of the day, but didn’t realize it until after I got home.
I really realized it this morning after waking up from crazy X-filled dreams. I do dream about him sometimes, but normal kind of stuff, like we’re together, but nothing weird, like we’re at the movies or something. I mean, I’d rather not have even that, but that’s better than last night’s craziness. I was back together with him, and had to tell him to his face I was leaving him (which never actually happened in real life), then later we were sleeping in bed together and I was trying to avoid having him touch me…there was other stuff, too, which is now in that misty post-dream place and kind of hard for me to put words to. Disconcerting dreams. But very nice to wake up and Miss Famous was there and not Mr. X.
Today feels better, blue skies and all that. There is some good news that I will share once I have some more details. We’re limping, but definitely moving forward.
My good friend, the Domestic Wonder Woman, just visited from the Netherlands, where she and her husband, Tito, are studying for a couple of years. The DWW and Tito had previously told me about the bounty of baked goods to be found in Holland, and also about the, um, creativity with which said goods are named. In particular, Tito had remarked upon some particular cookies, which he translated as “Jew cookies,” something they certainly would not be named in the U.S. of A. As my prize for being their left-behind-in-the-boring-USA-friend, the DWW brought me a package of said “Jew cookies”:
And here are the actual cookies, which are quite tasty and are similar to tea cookies:
and because of another friend, the Bread Maven, who also received Jew cookies as a gift, but for some reason didn’t want her Jewish cookie jar (can you imagine?), I have two cans! Score!
(If anyone out there actually knows Dutch, feel free to correct Tito’s translation, though I kind of like calling them Jew cookies…)
Please check out the rest of the class over at Mel’s, where they are showin’ and tellin’ up a storm!
So just a couple hours after I posted yesterday, I got the mail. Guess what was in it?
Tired of guessing yet?
More mail from Biff, the super-lawyer.
Good thing I didn’t offer to bet double-or-nothing his fees on X’s not turning the money in (recap: he emptied the savings, the court said turn in half of what you took), because apparently late last week the court received a check from Mr. X for the exact amount. I guess he didn’t want to have to avoid showing up in our former state of residence out of fear of avoiding jailtime, after all.
I underestimated him. As usual.
I am reeling. It’s like whiplash with this guy. Like my mom says, he didn’t turn it in out of the goodness of his heart, more out of self-preservation, but still. I am reeling.
I guess the mortgage company will be happy, at least.
And maybe, maybe my credit won’t take such a hit? I still don’t have access to the money (in case you were wondering), but I’m really glad that he doesn’t, either.
And I really need to avoid that city in Nevada like the plague.
WiseGuy, who is familiar with the wily ways of Mr. X, asked after the last show and tell post: If X does not cough up, will the court force him to?
I don’t know if this would be a part of the Rid.dle Ripple Effect™ or not (probably just the straight Ripple Effect, no?).
I asked this very question of my attorney, who has a very frat boy/WASPy/old money sounding name. That is, it sounds kind of silly (when I’ve told people his name, they have to ask me again what it is, and then say, “Really?”), but at the same time, you can kind of picture him kickin’ back on the yacht in a Ralph Lauren ad. Let’s say it’s “Biff.” (It’s not, but that’s kind of fun, too.) He also comes highly recommended. But I digress. So I asked my attorney, Biff, this question, and he was a little obtuse about the whole issue, like, “Of course, he’ll pay, the court told him to, duh.” And I just kept asking, “But just play along with me here, Biff, what if he doesn’t?” So after a while of this, Biff finally told me that basically X would be in contempt of court and if he showed back up in the state where the divorce is happening (neither of us are there now), he would be arrested. The catch is: he’s going to “have to” show up for mediation and possibly the court date also (when the divorce is decided, because, let’s face it, it’s unlikely that he will be willing to mediate much). Biff doesn’t think he’s stupid enough not to pay the money. I think he won’t pay the money and then just won’t show up. Biff said if that happens, then he’ll lose out on anything he wants in the divorce settlement. Really, there isn’t much to ask for, I don’t think, once the money pit house is out of the way (and that’s a WHOLE other operetta, don’tgetmestarted) .
So to answer the wise WiseGuy: the court will try to, but I don’t think they really can.
I am looking at the whole court order thing the way another commenter, Luna, put it: I DO hope you get to see this money, but at least you can feel justified in the meantime that this will hang over him.
Yes. There may be an entire state he needs to avoid anyway. We’ll see.
Maybe Biff and I should post bets. Do you think he would gamble his fees on this one?
Boy this time it really snuck up on me!
If you feel like doing a little work, you can clicky-click here (they open in new windows) and see what I did last month and the month before to introduce myself. Then there is always the backstory page tab above.
Of course, that’s kind of a lot of work…
Very long, very angst-filled story made short(er):
Girl with issues meets Boy. Girl and Boy marry. Girl always knows they have problems (but, really, who doesn’t?), but does not realize the depth of said problems. Along comes the evil Infertility and Girl experiences great amount of pain. Girl is no longer able to keep juggling all balls in the air to keep Boy happy. Girl gets therapy and starts to get healthier. As Girl gets healthier, relationship goes down the tubes and Boy gets more and more emotionally abusive. In Spring of ’09, Girl gets a clue and gets out of Dodge, with the fabulous Miss Famous in tow. Boy goes even more demented than before and does many crazy things, presumably to hurt Girl. The present time finds Girl studying to become licensed to work as a social worker (already her profession) in the state in which she now resides with her family, relying on her parents to pay her attorney’s bills. Girl has wonderful friends, both in the real and electronic worlds and is regretful only that she did not leave Boy sooner.
So that’s it in a nutshell. I hang around the ALI world, because, well, you’re my people. The saga continues…Boy (who goes by Mr. X around here) continually surprises with his capacity for assholery, and Miss Famous delights on a daily basis. Other themes include the how’s and why’s of how I got here, but we’ll cover that another day.