Wednesday, August 26, 2009

through your eyes the strains of battle, like a brooding storm

(Now with 27% fewer typographical errors! Sorry--dashed off the first version of this while I was taping boxes together and coordinating what to bring out from the garage for the first load sent to the storage unit. Oops.)

I woke up this morning
Now I understand
What it means to give your life
To just one man
Afraid of feeling nothing
No bees or butterflies
My head is full of voices
And my house is full of lies

Home is what you make it. Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.

Home is changing.

This is home, home
And this is home, home
This is home

If all goes according to plan, home will be in limbo for at least a week, hopefully no longer. My already scarce appearances in world will likely go nonexistant--for a while, at least.

This, friends and neighbors, is as close as I ever want to get to a full First Life confessional, here. I am more than happy, most of the time, barring tech news, movie trailers and music, to ignore that I have a First Life most of the time.

This situation changed that.

I found your standing there
When I was seventeen
Now I'm thirty-two
And I can't remember what I'd seen in you
I made a promise
Said it everyday
Now I'm reading romance novels
And I'm dreaming of yesterday

I'm not going to go into why--those of you who know me well enough to ask can ask, if you haven't already. And most of you who do know, have been fairly busy being appalled, worried, or hand-holding, frankly.

Or all three.

This is home, home
And this is home, home
This is home

But this is about to change. How things will (with any luck) play out:

On Saturday, the 29th of August, we load everything we can possibly load in a borrowed car and unload it into a storage unit across town. Whatever won't fit--that we're keeping--comes with us; the cats go off to the pet hospital for updates on their shots and storage for the few days (again, hopefully) on their own.

Then off we go to a motel--no internet, near as we can figure, local phone only, cable of some kind, wee fridge, microwave if we're lucky--and spend a week in one room, breathing, and letting some of the last two years of stress go.

I'd like to see the Riviera
And slow-dance underneath the stars
I'd like to watch the sun come up
In a stranger's arms

After that, if all continues to go well, we're off into our own place, which has free net (Hallelujah! People with PRIORITIES!), and we can work out the other details later.

This is Plan A.

This is home, home
And this is home, home
This is home

If Plan A fails to work, Plan B goes into effect, which involves considerably more work, planning, financial outlay, uprooting to an entirely new state and replanting there, and far from ideal, let alone enjoyable, accommodations. It does have the virtue of having one of my loves in residence, so you know, it's not all bad.

So that's it. Plan A, Plan B. No idea which one is going to play out, though we're pulling with all our strength of will for the first one. Trying not to bite my nails down to the bone waiting.

I'm going crazy
A little at a time
And everything I wanted
Is now driving me away
I woke this morning
To the sound of beating hearts
Mine is full of questions
And it's tearing yours apart...

And, one way or another, eventually we get back to a place with net access before September is over. One way or another.

I just have to wait and see which way it's going to go. And how far we'll need to hop.

At this point? Welcome to the Train-Wreck Life.

This is home, home
And this is home, home
This is home

(Lyrics taken from Sheryl Crow's song, Home.)


Dale Innis said...

Sending good thoughts in your time of stressful moving about!

Emilly Orr said...

Thanks! I am mildly amused (though more touched and humbled) by the fact that good wishes and prayers for us have now gone international.

I'll take what I can get, at this point. As I've said in world, safe harbor from our current situation could be a large box and a filthy pallet behind the airport, for all we care--it would still be better than what we've been dealing with.

We have a whole new standard now, for "unbearable". We really didn't need to know. But it's slowly coming together, in mostly good ways, and that is more of a relief than you know.

turnerBroadcasting said...

Getting a house in this economy is like getting a license to steal.

Given what I would guess of your general finances I would offer if you can get into a home you're probably going to end up 20 percent ahead on the investment in less than 5 years, not counting actual appreciation. I think being able to buy when the markets down like this will count for at least 20 points.


Emilly Orr said...

You're amusing.

Given that we are *barely* living check to check, *if* you can count "only short ten bucks this month" as living check to check--we have zero savings. Zero investments. Zero T-bills. Zero IRAs. Zero 401-Ks.

I get food stamps. The girl is on disability.

Buying a home? Really, that's in the realm of comedy, if not outright incredulity.

That being said, we're pushing towards the best we can hope for--a reduced-income quadroplegic-owned government-financed secure facility, with space for us to live on our own but access to on-site medical care if the girl needs it, plus there's not a single room in the place--counting the garbage room, the laundry rooms, the vending machine area, the back patio, each of the bedrooms, and the shower--that is not completely roll-in accessible.

It looks more than feasible, and so far, the ball's now in their court--all the paperwork is back. Finally.

Assuming we qualify? We're in.

HeadBurro Antfarm said...

Good luck with Plan A, mate x

Emilly Orr said...

We're hoping. It looks better than it did last week.

Worse comes to worse, we have a neurotoxic cobra whiskey we could always toss a toast to Himself in.

...I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, but hey.

Rhianon Jameson said...

Great googaly-moogaly, those are some set of issues to deal with! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you and yours (the "extended Orrs," If you will), and might even sneak in a prayer when you're not looking.

Emilly Orr said...

I refuse prayers from no one. I'm always honored if people want to pray for me and mine, and it's never, *never* unwelcome.