A Sentimental Journey

The air is warming up (I forgot how early Spring comes to Birmingham), daylight savings time is about to make me the happiest girl in the world and I have felt physically healthy for the longest time since my journey down a health spiral began almost 5 years ago.

I believe life has peaks and valleys. A lot of bloggers, I've noticed recently, call them seasons. It's your season to have kids. It's your season to work hard. It's your season for stress.

Well let me tell you I was in a real shite season for a long time. As people always remind me (like I would forget) it hasn't all been bad this past season. I got married and had an incredibly wonderful Lil' D.

True dat.

But I also have lived in 5 houses in five years (about to be 6). Made two huge moves. Experienced more physical pain than I would wish on my worst enemy. Experienced some loneliness from moving to a city where you don't speak the language, real or cultural. Had 4 surgeries. Been forced to abandon two jobs before I was ready to go.

I lost a lot of myself in this past season because I had to focus on that boring self that is just surviving day to day, not the self that thrives or grows or can give to others.

I feel like I'm finally, finally getting out of this season and moving on up to another. A peak (I'm just going to put it out there). This last month, especially, has introduced me to new people whether real or just in the cloud that have pushed me out of my rut into something light and new. I've been given books that have changed my perspective on everything from writing to purchasing to organizing to religion. I've listened to podcasts that have made me think hard about what it means to be a working woman, a productive member of society, and what makes one truly happy. I've devoured blogs about budgets and schedules and menu planning. I went to a museum for the first time in as long as I can remember for fun. I went to the park on a sunny day which I hadn't done since I lived in NYC so many moons ago.

And I'm not going to let my superstitions get the best of me. In the past, I've never wanted to celebrate anything good for fear the gods would strike me down. But guess what, they strike you down whether you are celebrating the good times or not.

So I'm celebrating.

The dogwood outside my door is opening up in time for Easter. Life is opening back up for me.

I've really missed you. It's been too long. Let's sit a spell.

Ed notes: This post originally featured Doris Day but I thought this song better reflected my mood.

Apartments in NYC: Getting Out is Just as Hard As Getting In

Anyone who knows me knows that "assertiveness" is not my middle name. I prefer passive aggression, veiled underhanded comments, bitching about it to anyone other than the party involved, and other wussy approaches to handling conflict...But my inner anger has really been riled up by the broker in charge of re-renting my apartment.

Today I got approximately a 2 hour warning that he would be bringing people by. Two hours! By law they have to provide 24 hours notice.
I texted him back and said no can do at at that time. I even offered an hour later.
To which I got this reply: Sorry, has to be then.

And for one of the few moments in my life I called back and confronted. I called the broker, I called the landlord, hell, I might even call the mayor I'm so pissed off.

The broker had the gall to act like I am "preventing him from showing my apartment." Mind you, this is the first time I've said no to a time he proposed even though he has brought over three couples when he told me he was only bringing one, showed up an hour late, and has tried to open my door while I was standing there naked screaming that I was getting in the shower.

AND mind you that I did pay my final month's rent which is HEFTY.

But just like most things in NYC, money does not solve everything, sometimes you gotta fight for what you need.

Although eventually I did let the landlord talk me down from the ledge with the unhelpful offer that I should, "let the broker know in advance when I can't show the apartment" (ahem, did I mention my rent was HEFTY)- I felt good that I said something...

Maybe New York did teach me something about being assertive after all!