It's true that when lemons fall into a person's life, one should stir up some lemonade.

I've hesitated writing about this past Monday for one reason. It's past.

But here goes:

As many of you already know, I haven't had cable TV for several years. David and I also lived without TV for many, many years and did better than fine. The thing with cable is that it costs a fortune and over 500 stations are brought into a person's home, yet there isn't a darn thing to watch. I say *darn* because my grandson recently sent me a FB friend invitation and I accepted. *smiling*

When I signed the rental agreement at Hillsboro House, I noted that cable TV was provided. This generated little interest. It wasn't cable TV that was motivating me to move to Nashville. But after a few weeks and frequent references to shows and news, I realized I was missing nuances to household conversation because I didn't have cable. I'm also a sucker for shows like Top Chef and International House Hunters... I can't verify it, but I can almost guarantee that the reason my sister now lives in Panama is because of this HGTV show - and I'm not talking about Panama City, FL. But that's another whole silly story.

Okay, so I'm gonna really abbreviate this silly story. I decided it might be fun to have cable in addition to the shows I stream through Roku, but upon trying to connect, the cable wouldn't work. My landlady (whom I still like and I don't know why) essentially said, "Not my problem." I never pitched a fit. I think I simply found her behavior totally unattractive, unethical, calloused etc. I do not have cable. I will never have cable. She doesn't care. Trust me, I can live quite well without cable, but that isn't the point.

Part 2 to this silly story: When I first met my landlady she commented that she'd revoked laundry privileges to her former youthful tenants because they didn't treat the machines with respect, but that she would consider letting me use the facilities. At the time, it wasn't an issue because I thought I'd be returning to Monteagle every weekend and could lug small amounts of laundry back and forth. Well, that didn't happen. I like it here so only plan to return for my monthly book club gathering - a group of women I adore and who changed our monthly meeting date to accommodate my Vanderbilt appointments. So, I asked my landlady if she would consider letting me use the laundry facilities and her answer was a flat, "No."

Seriously?

Really?

Really?

David and I chatted it up a bit regarding this situation. This is my observation. She said *no* only because she could - it's that simple. There would've been no harm or inconvenience in letting me use the laundry facilities. David and I discussed how unstable people find *power* wherever they can. My landlady finds power in treating her tenants like... do-do. (remember my grandson?)

That's okay. I've risen above the stink. I have bigger battles to fight than her petty control junkets.

And that's when I made lemonade.

I drove to Target and purchased a plastic tub and a collapsible drying rack. I did this after researching local laundries that cost $16 for one drop-off load. That would've cost me a minimum of $32 each week and there was no way I was going to do that - an extra $150 or so each month! So, this afternoon I did laundry in my own space, which didn't require lugging anything up and down stairs - which was far superior to any other options including my landlady's *bleeping* laundry facilities.

It's odd that I'm so happy here. I don't understand it entirely. My life has become very, very tiny in many ways. But maybe it's my tiny one room, my tiny daily itinerary and tiny grocery list that I find so comforting. I adore my mountain friends, but I'm not happy in Monteagle. Much to my huge sadness, I haven't been for 7 years. Moving to the mountain was a dream come true, but I've been wretchedly isolated. Moving to Monteagle has become an unforeseen strategic mistake. My life at Hillsboro House is unfettered and simple and austere. I'm not ready to leave... any of it - even if I don't have cable TV that I pay for and the other tenants have - or if I have to wash my own laundry in a tub.

These days I kinda amaze myself with my coping skills.

***

Since I wrote these words, I met with a psychologist who specializes with folk like me who've been given a terminal diagnosis. I'll write more about this another time. The hour spent with Dr. Armstrong (and more scheduled) was reassuring and validating. A large portion of his *training* focuses on the benefits of gratitude - that gratitude is the most underused tool we have. Somehow or another, I've instinctively grabbed a-hold. And maybe that's why I'm doing so well. That I am happy... content.