You are an impressive young woman. I was shocked and tickled when you called me this morning to clarify my address before heading over. No, I don’t live in a condemned house on Coleman Street, so it’s a good thing you double-checked.
I like that you are Type A like I am.
And I like that you are a woman who is a chimney sweep.
That’s rare. And very cool.
Then this conversation blew my mind:
Me: “You probably get this all the time, but you are giving me a Scarlett Johansson vibe.” You: “I do get that all the time. And I also model.”
Whaaaat?
A female chimney sweep and part-time model? You are FANTASTIC!
THEN we had a very girly conversation about spa services, and you gave me the name of your aesthetician.
I’m sure it was just another day for you, but it was a GREAT day for me.
I’m going to have to ask you to stay in your lane.
Spiders, please stay out of my basement.
Squirrels, please stop looking in my bedroom window.
Birds, please don’t come into my house.
I got home last night and opened my front door to get the mail. One of you flew in uninvited. Then had the nerve to fly upstairs.
My dustmop and I followed.
Luckily, your fowl emissary was smart. He (she?) settled on the floor. I gently placed the dustmop on top of him (her?) until I could grab a hand towel. I wrapped the scout in the hand towel, and we both went outside.
My niece said she thinks it’s a House Sparrow (which would be appropriate) or that I’m a Disney princess.
I had to make your rep skedaddle by flapping the towel.
But why? There’s nothing for any of you inside. No supply of worms. No room to fly high. No comfy nest.
Stay outside!
This is not the first time you outside critters have been lured by the great indoors, though. In my first apartment in Savannah, a rat came up from the dumpster outside. (I lived above a famous Southern restaurant. Loads of food waste.)
Luckily, my friend Brenon was on patrol with an ax handle. He went ham. Sorry, Remy.
That was the same night my immediate downstairs neighbor dealt with a bat from the chimney. And the neighbor below her had a random cat in heat show up.
Rat. Bat. Cat.
What’s up with that?
Anyway, you stay in your habitat, and I’ll stay in mine.
You may be wondering where I’ve been. I’ve been in Hell. Specifically, I’ve been in the First Circle: Limbo.
I do not do well with uncertainty. And finding a place to live in St. Louis has come with SO MUCH UNCERTAINTY. And dealing with people who hang out in the Fourth Circle: Greed.
First, I was going to rent. Then I saw howexpensive rent is here. (It’s not as bad as Atlanta, but considering we are paying for two places to live, it’s bad.)
I decided to buy a cute condo downtown. Until I saw how much HOA fees are. (Hint: They are not cute.)
My brother said, “For that amount, you can buy a nice house.”
But I didn’t want a house. A house comes with upkeep.
My realtor said, “For that amount, you can hire someone to do the upkeep.”
So I found a house and decided to buy it. It’s adorable. It’s on a street that reminds me of Savannah, and the neighborhood brewery is a one-minute-and-20-second walk away. (For real. I timed it.)
But.
BUT.
The inspection found a few issues in this 1891 gem. We negotiated like mad to work it out.
But then, a new problem:
The seller got a divorce. Never took the ex off the deed.
Uh oh.
That delayed closing a week. Meanwhile, we had to get out of the place in Atlanta. No problem: Seller was going to grant possession prior to closing (as she should: It was her fault). But she wanted to charge $83 per day.
Excuse me?
As my stuff was in a moving truck and ready to go to St. Louis, I was in a tight spot.
Sigh. FINE.
Then — as Eddie and I were driving separate UHauls to Missouri (another terrible story), the seller changed her mind.
SHE CHANGED HER MIND.
Now, I need you to know this: I discovered (because I did spend many years as a reporter) that the seller would be my next-door neighbor. SHARING A WALL, as it is a row house.
So this woman fully knew she would be royally screwing over her soon-to-be-close neighbor. And she did it anyway.
(This is not even the climax of the story, in case you are wondering. We have a ways to go to the denouement.)
My GOD.
Now entering Fifth Circle: Anger. Please keep hands and arms inside the vehicle.
As the owner, it was her prerogative. For sure. But also a dick move.
So.
I’m nothing if not resilient. While driving the truck, I booked a storage unit in St. Louis and hired some folks for the next day to help us move my stuff into it.
Recalculating. This route avoids the Seventh Circle: Violence.
On the day I was supposed to move in, we ended up staying with my mother. Thankfully! And made the best of it.
I did close on the house a week later. Her decision cost me a week and SO MUCH MONEY because I had to hire actual movers, instead of abusing my family.
That experience was atrocious on its own. (Hence my comment about the climax.)
The good news is that the house is mine. I’ve been here two weeks. And my neighbor hasn’t dared to show her face.
Are you surprised? I’m not. She knows what she did.
But I have a place to live. And a forwarding address. Finally.
Observe and report 