One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite musicals, "Oliver," is "Reviewing the Situation" ("I am re-view-ing the sit-u-a-tion..."). I'm pretty sure we all like songs we can identify with, and I am almost constantly taking the pulse of just where my life is at the moment, comparing it to where it has been, and projecting what I might expect in the future...by far the least reliable of the three.
I'm going through a bit of a busy period, though comparing it to other busy periods of my life is a bit difficult, since time usually softens the sharp edges and blurs the focus, and we...or I...tend to easily forget how things really were. My mind has a tendency when dealing with the past, to run around smoothing out the wrinkles in the bedcovers and dusting under the couch, with the result that things tend to look a lot more rosy in retrospect then when actually being experienced.
At the moment of writing, I am not-at-all-patiently awaiting the arrival of a new internet modem (the subject of another blog). It was supposed to be here today. The day is nearly over. It is not here.
I learned earlier today that I will definitely, without question, damn-the-torpedos-full-speed-ahead moving this coming Monday...providing they are able to find the key to the apartment, which apparently has gone missing and might necessitate the replacing the lock entirely. IF I move on Monday, it will be the end of a six month game of "Oh, you can move for sure next week. Or maybe next month. Or if not then, the third Tuesday following the Solstice. Or if not then, definitely by St. Michaelmas Eve. Or maybe...." It's really been fun. But not much. I have come to see myself as Charlie Brown, with the building's bureaucracy as Lucy, and my new apartment as the football.
I am--and I would not be surprised if I also am at the time you read this, however far down the calendar it may be from now--also awaiting the court's approval of my appointment as executor of my recently and sadly dead friend, Norm,'s will. Though I legally can do nothing until it comes through, I've made arrangements for an appraiser to come over to go through Norm's condo and give me an idea of the value of his lifetime collection of belongings, and I've been in touch with a representative of a company that purchases estates.
Once the condo is empty, I'll next have to consult with a Real Estate broker about putting the condo up for sale, and whether it would be better to sell it as is or go to the time and expense of painting and replacing the dog-ravaged carpeting and wallpaper.
And while all this is going on, I become increasingly aware of the fact that while there is sufficient money in his bank account to cover monthly--and sizable--condo fees and other continuing monthly expenses for a time, it won't last forever and, given the status of the housing market, there is no guarantee of how long it will take to sell.
You'll notice no mention of my own life, which normally centers around writing. I have a book halfway written which is far behind schedule and must be finished soon if there is any hope of having it get out this year. And after I've typed "the end" on that one, I must get busy on the next.
So there you have the general gist of my most recent reviewing of my situation. It'll all look a lot better from some point in the future when my mind has once again tidied up my memory.
And you know what I'm going to do when all this current turmoil is over with? When I can get back on line and am all moved into my new apartment and Norm's affairs have all been settled, I'm going to take a boat to Tahiti. Yep! That's what I'm gonna do. Ask Gary to come up and feed my cat, and just take off. And while I'm sitting on a deck chair looking out over the vast, untroubled ocean, I look forward to a most pleasant reviewing of my situation.
New entries are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Please come back...and bring a friend. Your comments are always welcome. And you're invited to stop by my website at http://www.doriengrey.com, or drop me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org.