STARTING OVER!

 

I can’t explain why I’ve moved to so many places over the years other than I was born a ramblin' woman. It’s a miracle that I stayed with several healthcare companies for more than ten years each in my career, although I wanted to quit each job about a million times. Remembering the places I’ve lived and the people I met leaves me with mixed memories. Living on both coasts in the USA, South Africa, and various locales in Texas allowed me to live in some of the most beautiful places in the world. Coupling that with traveling the world as frequently as possible when I was younger gave me an unmatched worldview. What I discovered is that people are pretty much the same. Some are fun, some are irritating, some are fascinating, and some are those you want to run away from as fast as possible. One would think I’ve seen and experienced it all. I haven’t.

This latest move almost took me down. I had considered moving from Horseshoe Bay several times in the past few years. Various physical problems, the pandemic, and isolation from living alone during those times made me feel completely disconnected. Horseshoe Bay is a beautiful resort town set on the banks of Lake LBJ in the magnificent Texas Hill Country, full of well-to-do, proud, retired couples who fiercely protect their wealth by voting with their pocketbooks rather than with any moral compass. Despite joining various organizations and volunteering for many projects, I do not fit their profile in any way. After a few incidents when I felt a lack of support in general and backlash from taking a stand against Llano County’s book-banning crusade, I decided it was time to “run away as fast as possible” and find my tribe in a town that’s full of people more like me. Plus, I would be living much closer to my growing too quickly grandchildren.

After owning more than my share of houses as an adult, the last thing I want to do is own another home. I’m too old to worry about the upkeep of a house. The forty-year-old townhouse I recently sold had leaks that wouldn’t stay fixed and appliances that were on their last leg. Plus, the HOA kept imposing assessments every two years to maintain the common areas. Due to the “hot” housing market, I sold the house for more than twice what I paid five years ago. And I’m why we haven’t had rain in the past month. I prayed it wouldn’t rain in the month between placing my house on the market and closing on the sale. It rained four days after I closed. I might have wondered for a minute if the last repair on the deck kept the downstairs ceiling from collapsing again, but I quickly realized that I had disclosed repairing it twice, and it was no longer my problem. Thank God!

Finding the right place to move to is an ordeal. After researching online “senior living” places, I discovered that “independent living” and “active senior adult living” were not the same as living in an apartment restricted to ages 62 and over. Most often, those are attached to a graduated living experience; only you're not "graduating," instead, you're going downhill. For instance, independent living is not independent. For starters, meals are provided, and the cost begins at $3,000 per month. Most of the facilities that have independent living also offer assisted living. Depending on the needs of the senior adult, the cost increases as more staff are involved in caring for you. I wanted to live in an apartment with no residents younger than 62 with no other options. Sharing each meal with others does not appeal to me now. Apartments for those over 62 without meals and without staff to assist residents are another experience. There are two categories of over 62 apartments, which appear similar on the surface. The catch is that for one type of over-age 62 apartment, you must have a yearly income of no more than $40,000 for one person to qualify. The other 62-plus apartments require at least $70,000 in annual revenue for a single person. One must wonder what seniors do who want to rent a lovely apartment in the gap between $40,000 and $70,000. Most people, especially single women, aren’t fortunate enough to have savings, retirement funds, Social Security income, and pensions. But then, I remember a recent tour of seniors' trailer house communities. Others live with friends or relatives. The way this country treats the elderly is appalling. Don’t get me started on nursing homes, which is a whole 'nother cluster.

I may have moved frequently, but at this age, arranging a move is overwhelming. Stopping and starting services is something I hope never to experience again. It’s confusing, but AT&T, which has a phone, internet, and TV service monopoly, has outsourced call centers to India. Having experienced this in the past did not prepare me for the horror it is now. Heavy accents, poor phone reception, and the constant “I’m sorry, ma’am, it will only take a minute while I check on something” made me want to tear my hair out. They’ve been trained to apologize, but good grief, the transaction would take much less time without apologizing, thanking, and transitioning to another person or screen. I’d love to discuss the entire ordeal with someone ‘in charge’ at AT&T. Yeah, good luck with that!

I’m almost settled in my new apartment and loving the simplicity of living in a one-bedroom abode with maintenance handled by someone else. Downsizing from a three-bedroom, three-bath house to a place one-third the size has been challenging. I’ve donated many items, but it wasn’t enough. It’s the proverbial “what to take,” “what to donate,” and “what to trash” that doesn’t end when you prepare to move. No, it still occurs after the move because you didn’t donate or trash enough. The things you once treasured must find their way to the trash bin or elsewhere. Letting go is sometimes difficult, but my daughter will hopefully thank me for making her life easier when she must dispose of my possessions when I’m gone.

I now enjoy living within a few miles of my daughter and grandchildren, Costco, HEB, and hundreds of restaurants and shops. Whew! I'm back in civilization.

What a long, strange trip this life has been.

Our morning walk...