The house reeks of green chile stew. Somehow, when I arose this morning, I slipped into cooking rather than writing; my desire for dinner in the crockpot being stronger than my desire to pin down something that I wanted to write about.
It’s a lazy Sunday, and I’m I can’t dig too deeply. Some days, I am too serious for my own good.
My son left for Pennsylvania on Friday. The part of him that needed to follow his own path finally overweighed his need for the safety of being near me. He is, after all, thirty-six. It didn’t hurt that he hates Albuquerque. It made me a little sad to realize how long he lingered out of some sense of obligation.
Ok – the backstory for those of you who don’t know it, in case any of you care:
A few years ago (it will be three on Jan 2nd), once he returned, I bought this stupid little house near downtown in a not overly great neighborhood, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t ask him if it was acceptable before purchasing. It was cheap. My investment company purchased it, paying cash (it was on the heels of the flip I’d done, so there was money available). The problem with the house was that it had no water, which of course is why it was so cheap. It took a year and a half, tons of drama, and more money than it was probably worth to remedy the situation and get it all straightened out. The intention was for my business to sell the house to him. Maybe it was the fact that I ended up securing a mortgage (private money) to be able to finish the plumbing fiasco that created the tension. I think it irritated him that there is a $375 a month mortgage on the place – not to mention a pricey ($100) monthly water bill that includes the cost of the improvement (for putting in the water and sewer).
It wasn’t my job to provide free housing. Maybe the irritation was from knowing it was a burden on me once he lost his job. I owned the house, so if he couldn’t pay it I had to. (After all that shit, I wasn’t losing the house over him getting fired for trying to start a union in an at will state, as a temp much less! I warned him.)
Whatever the reason, he’s gone. His friend Jonathan wants to buy the house from me on owner financing, which is fine. Saves me from needing to put any energy into fixing it up and trying to find a buyer myself. We still need to iron out the details, but I’m sure we will get it figured out. Jonathan was part of what ate up my Friday. He was over here and I was explaining the options. He’s a talker, who likes to wax poetic about society, and government and God. He may have been here longer than my son was saying goodbye.
The loose ends are getting tied up.
For the moment, I am enjoying the slow pace of Sunday. Tomorrow, the hustle returns. I may have been paid for the house I closed on last Tuesday, but it wasn’t adequate to cover all that begs to be taking care of. The good news is, we finally filed our taxes and didn’t owe anything. Of course, being self-employed with no W-2’s, we didn’t pay in anything, so we don’t get anything back either. But I do have a lovely bill I owe the tax people. Thank heavens they’ve worked with me for years and are patient.
But I’m just rambling. I need to call my mother. And cornbread. I need to make cornbread to go with that green chile stew.
Namaste, my friends, Namaste.