Helloooo, Reader! Myohmy, How I’ve missed you!
I understand it may seem as if I’m effing off down here in Heaven’s Waiting Room. There is my fair share of this:
Because as my new Pool Friend Rita points out, it’s not that we are just floinking around in the water
because it’s oh-my-fuck-hot for fun and games, “IT’S FOR OUR HEALTH!!”
We do our exercises in there. We stretch and pedal and arm twirl and lunge and backwards walk and splay-leg and squat-but-not-too-low-because-water-up-the-nose.
Rita taught me the tricks of using a pool noodle as a water bicycle, and as a support for breast stroking all over the place, and yes I just typed BREAST STROKE so haha tee-hee twelve-year-old-schoolboys.
Give me a moment while I’m done snickering.
Okay. Now back to it.
While it may seem as if I’m just frolicking around, my weeks are actually a whole lot more stressful than appearances may lead one miles and miles away to believe.
My week goes something like this:
Sunday night: Begin fretting about the long-ass drive I have in the morning. Stay up on my phone long after I’m supposed to be sleeping willing a $10-a-night-on-the-beach near work into existence on Airbnb.
I actually sometimes think I’ll just luck into a place that’s normally $100 because I wish it so hard, and surely don’t they know who I am already for chrissake. Give it to me cheap, People.
Finally, around 2 a.m., turn off my airbnb app and go to sleep, figuring I’ll figure it out on Monday.
Monday: Pissed I don’t have a bed close to work lined up, what the fuck, Me.
Later Monday: Realize the beach cottages are not going to come down into my budget, because these foolish owners would rather have their places sit empty than have me fart in their bed for $20 a night. Imagine.
Monday Night: Get home from work around 7ish p.m., book a place for Tues-Wed-Thurs-check-out-Friday-and-Go-To-Work. Now I have to hurriedly*** pack four work-days worth of clothing, girl products and the like, but wait, that’s not all!
***as an asside, how the hell do you spell hurry-id-ly?? wait, i just looked it up.. is it pronounced HURRY-ID-LEE?? Well, who knew. I thought it was HURR-ED-LY. Hm. The things we learn when blogging. I really should get my honorary teaching degree because I just taught you this, Reader, so you’re welcome and I’ll take an apple on my desk in the morning.***
I also have to gather up FOOD for the week. Because I’ve shopped for the household down here, and have purchased $300** groceries and I’m not leaving it all behind so I have to pack up and then sherpa groceries into my workplace so I have lunches and then something to cobble together for dinner while I’m Willie Nelson****
**I wish that were an exaggeration, but it is not
****come on, work with me, Reader. I’m Willie Nelson because……..come’on, you’ve got it….I’m ON THE ROAD AGAIN.
Luckily, I was fortunate to get a free collapsable little red wagon and it has been handy in hauling my crap in and out of this house and then into whatever flop house I’m frequenting that week.
In some good news, I’ve gotten to sleep around A LOT of this Upper East Coast of Florida in the past couple of months, so feather in my cap, and that sounds a lot more dirty than what’s actually happening, which is mostly my eating crackers and drinking wine alone in some foreign room in someone else’s bed, which also sounds a lot more exotically exciting that what’s actually going on. Because I’m literally eating crackers and drinking wine alone most nights during the week.
But then last week, my circumstances changed. I woke up from a hot-as-fuck sleep at 2 a.m. and got fucking serious about manifesting my living arrangements.
1/ Must have a/c that I control
2/ Must have a pool
3/ Must have a small kitchen with a burner and not just a microwave
4/ Must have a private entrance
5/ Must have a good bed
6/ Must love cats
7/ Must have laundry facility
8/ Must not cost one dime more than $CheapOhDollars all-in, including wifi and cable.
I wrote it down.
On my 1.5 hour drive into work.I thought about it and said it out loud and believed in my whole heart it existed, and I just needed to find it.
And I willed it into my world.
On Tuesday night, that was delivered into my lap.
I checked in to my Airbnb that night – which was a private entrance, ten steps from the pool:
And it has a kitchenette.
And the outside has a bar area with swings and a grill and tables and amenities…
…and the room is nice and the bed is comfy and no one committed a Forensic Files type crime against me in the middle of the night.
And the owner asked if I’d like to live here once I explained my plight of weekly bed-hopping and she said my $CheapOhNumber out loud as her fee, and oh she offered me her washer and dryer included, and she said, “Sure, bring your cat,” and now Kitty Purry doesn’t even know it, but she’s moving to Florida in a month and won’t she be excited!!
She probably won’t be excited.
Until she gets here and sleeps in her mama’s loving arms once again.
While I’ve shown the pictures above of where I stayed, that won’t actually be my room. She wants me to have the NICER room, with more “beachy” colors and updates, so I’ll be one room over, and yay oh yay oh yay me!
I still may be eating crackers and drinking wine in bed alone for dinner most nights. But Evening Girl is already making a lot of plans for Morning Girl’s ass to get up early and do her leg squats and pool sprints before she even gets to work. Because 10 steps and a heated pool, and if I fail me on this, I will never forgive myself.
So while we may have not had as much together time as I would have liked, Reader, please hold tight. It’s going to get better. For me, oh so much easier. I willed this into my existence. Now I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a million dollar payday I’m hard at work thinking about next.
Hm. Maybe I should have started with that wish.
And I just realized that I was giving you my weekly blow-by-blow but only made it until Tuesday, but who cares, just know that come Friday, I’ve been hauling stuff out of wherever I was staying, dragging whatever was perishable into work, hauling it back into the house in Melbourne at 8 p.m. at night, just to start it all over again on Sunday. It’s been .. well. Let’s just say I’ve deserved those few hours in the pool as my consolation prize for my disheveled life. Now take back all the mean things you were thinking about me.