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Mood:
So-So

I can't think why I started this journal-thingy, except that I loved Debby's blog and I've never done journaling electronically. I write wonderful repartee to some friends (they tell me this, and letters are my best efforts) but thought I would put this here and let it be imperfect and perhaps inarticulate.

I am selling my condo. This gives me both hope and pause. I moved back to Vashon in 2004 after an illness made me realize that I didn't want to be alone in West Seattle, away from friends and community. And now, mostly healed and scared about money, I want to move.

One of the hardest things about being a K-12 teacher is the realization that, if you work to retirement age with an average salary of $50K, you will retire at age 65 with $17K per year of income. With student loans, a high mortgage, insane taxes and the improbable gamble that is going back to school, it just made sense to get out now. I can rent in Tacoma for half of what I spend on housing now. I can make a profit and pay down some debt. I can re-embrace the ferry commute.

Hope is saving money, paying down debt, living in a funky old building with sash windows and a radiator. Hope is access to a city, cheap(er) gas and groceries, unscheduled departures. Hope is meeting new riding partners and perhaps dating someone.

Pause is the idea of moving again. Finding a (safe) place to park the motorcycle, commuting by ferry, learning a new neighborhood (also a fun thing). Pause is the foray into the for-sale-by-owner transaction. Pause is the amount of patience I will need to uproot again.

I had minor surgery on Thursday, and like a dork, I went in to work the next day, forgetting that I always feel great the day after and overwork. I left after three hours. Now I'm resting at home, puttering and cleaning things. Some real estate agents are coming over on Sunday to check out the condo, which will officially be for sale on Monday the 3rd. Want a condo?

Anyway, I have a l-o-n-g Saturday ahead of me. I will hit the library and check the PO box and pay bills and wallow in the mundane and check my email incessantly. Maybe it's time to write letters. You know, those things on paper?


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