It’s 8/8/08 and I know this is supposed to be a great luck day and maybe it will be, but personally I can’t wait until 9/9/09 as 9 is my favorite number. In elementary school I was sent for further counseling for loving the number 9 so much.

You can read about it in the book. it makes me laugh as I know there was nothing sinister or sick about my love for 9–it has the “n” sound which is still my favorite. I think they were trying desperately to find bad neurosis in me as I did have problems and they couldn’t accept that my inability to learn many things despite my IQ and my clumsiness etc DIDN’T have to have a neurotic basis, OK psychotic, as they couldn’t find a physical base.

I’m exhausted. So much has happened since the beginning of July. I’m proud of my LIP article. It was a coming out of sorts as I sent it to every living relative. My relatives were always great to me–well my one year older boy cousin and I had a sibling rivalry–according to our Aunt A–but when we grew up we liked each other. We really like each other. Not that we’re close

My friends are my family and my sister and her family of course and my b-i-l’s family–this is getting even more exhausting.

But my family of friends are taking over my move which is happening exactly when I thought it would. (Note to self: rethink The Secret,no don’t–it was a combination of market forces, pressure on the realtors to deliver, and much else.)

I will celebrate when it’s all over. I’m overwhelmed by everything and overwhelmed by gratitude to my friends and that includes blogging friends–Alphabet Girl Who Is A Woman Now you occupy a special place in my heart–for keeping the faith and much more.

OK. I’m a bad blogger. Last Friday night my blog disappeared and while I got it back I still haven’t reinstalled the links and much else. Too much is happening in my life. Most bloggers do respect that. I find it amazing the bloggers that will de-link you immediately, not even caring about karma and really showing that they couldn’t care less about blogging as a community.

I stopped caring about links over a year and my lack of them shows that. The blogroll will be back up shortly. I apologize about that.

I plan on enjoying the next two weeks as I have to go back to New York on 8/25 to finish getting ready to move. Lucia has taken over responsibility for getting the built in wall unit down, rebuilding the wall, and painting the living room.

My sister thinks I should move to a college town, me being a great mind in need of constant stimulation and all that but I’m beginning to build myself a nice life here. I’m confused. I think I can start a book club or writing group through the library, and a writing group on the Internet.

I was going to write a post or hopefully article on what I would have done differently when I bought my apartment. Then I realized two things. Eleven years ago the info on the Internet today wasn’t around, and I didn’t buy my apartment as an investment but as a place to love and live in. Guess what? I’m going to buy my patio house as a place to love and live in also.

Me thinks I’m beginning one of those great periods of life that used to happen to me every other year for three to five years—then once a decade if I was lucky. I can’t decide if the time when Courting was hotter than hot was a great period of life or was an interesting anomaly. I don’t exactly tell people when I meet them for the first time that I have a blog and once it was taught in at least two universities and I’m a side note in blogging history.

I don’t explain why I don’t drive. Since I have been moving during the oil crisis I have been using that to my advantage and saying that I’m experimenting with living in a town with zilch public transportation without a car or valid license. Myrtle Beach actually has Greyhound buses that go everywhere, and there’s a new bus company that goes many places much cheaper and is very luxe.

I didn’t reinvent myself through my blog. I was honest but it did help me see that a person can reinvent herself, shake up her life, and become the person she was in her 20’s and 30’s before life became so complicated but without the baggage and torrid self examination

When women talk about the 40’s and early 50’s being a wondrous time, and how being over 30 brought peace and contentment I wonder about them. Did they just stop living? Were they really that together and I was missing a lot? Did they have elderly parents who were becoming more dependent and thought that was a picnic?

Life doesn’t have to be as hard as it was for me. Now that more people have aging parents, it’s not a verboten subject. My best friends found ourselves moving away from each other during our 40’s for many reasons. We have found our way back to each other, and this is a subject I might explore in my blog because if there was a mistake to be made I made it. Fortunately they love me anyway.

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New York City with the exception of Manhattan has the most amount of subprime mortgages. I hope that nobody is affected by this too much. I truly hope that I’m not affected.
This is the first in a series about selling a Manhattan apartment. It’s not fun. I’m kind of paralyzed. This is about all the things I have to do before putting it up for sale. Everybody else seems to do this effortlessly

I’m weighing the pros and cons about blogging about the sale process.
It’s hard for me to believe that people will care about emptying the
storage cage. Which has the world’s largest quarter collection–just
in case dollar bills someday became extinct–in a bowling bag. A vintage very nice one. Next to the bag from Viet Nam.

Boxes of perfectly cleaned clothes–from 10 to 25 years old–all sizes in
plexiglass containers. Boxes of moldy books I have to throw out–the basement
had a flood. Bags filled with papers I didn’t need but didn’t want to
throw out. I will bring them up and shred them.

Boxes of things I never put in my apartment. Obviously I don’t need those things. Especially the ten boxes of plaster brackets but I have had some stuff since I was a teenager. Did shred all the report cards etc. Have to be merciless in discarding things.

Then I have to get them to get rid of the mold that has cropped up around the shower, paint all the surfaces
that were skim coated after various floods–so many I gave up
repainting and have a distinct tied died theme that only I notice. The floods were a good thing as the steam risers were replaced and trap doors, not noticeable, put in places where pipes tend to burst. This is a pre-war building. Floods are a given. I have had the worst, probably that the apartment can have. Our super is amazing with floods. He can talk about floods forever. The only time I have seen him excited was when he was pointing out pipes–on my bedroom floor. They’re all in a schematic now.
Have to get the small fire damaged area in the kitchen sanded and
painted–and have them do something about the area around the
sink–can’t think of what it’s called–the outer layer is peeling. Oh
yes, I found out the pipe in the kitchen sink is plastic and illegal

When I was working the window screens–specially ordered–each window
in the building is a different size–were measured and put in. I came
home to one screen each in the living room and the bedroom and screens
in the bathroom windows which I didn’t want. The original shades have
been falling apart

Oh the bathtub which I have use about four times a year–separate
shower needs to be reglazed though it’s been cleaned like fine silk.
The marble in the bathroom needs sealing as does the granite in the
kitchen/foyer. The new bedroom floor is already warping and there’s an area they couldn’t fit the wood exactly. I had them leave the concrete and was going to pour concrete over it but that couldn’t happen for some reason I forget. It’s the entry foyer to the bedroom. There used to be a soaking tub but it was taken out and I have the world’s smallest bedroom half bath. But it’s all white with subway tile and absolutely lovely. The bedroom is like a jewel case. It looked tiny when I first saw it, but I decorated it so that people think it’s large. I have a good eye. I’m a glass, steel, some wood person

It sounds truly gross but it’s adorable. Everybody loves it. Has
much curb appeal even in this condition. It’s actually in good condition. I see through magnified eyes.

I’m the only person who sees every deficiency but if I were going to
be paying that much for an apartment I would make sure that everything
is perfect even if I’m planning to renovate totally on general
principle. I want max money

Putting an apartment up for a sale is a very judgmental experience for
anybody. For me it reminds me of all my perceived weaknesses. Though
my family loves it, I can hear the voice of my father telling me how
imperfect I am. He never saw the apartment but I know he would have much to say. Maybe it would be good. Everybody else has only good to see, but I’m so used to looking at the horrible.

Maybe I should write about it but it feels the most personal of all
personal things.

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