audacity? stupidity? both?

yesterday afternoon i received a text message from my brother.

this is strange for several reasons:

#1 i only talk to my brother about 4 times a year. a random tuesday in november is not one of those 4 times.

#2 my brother is OLD SCHOOL. like severely old school. still uses a flip phone old school for him to TEXT? unheard of.

#3 the message: “you missing a smart watch?”

on so many levels, WHAT??

pause, reread, WHAT??

a smart watch? i mean, i HAD a smart watch, years ago. but is it missing? i don’t know? it was literal YEARS ago.

some dude called my brother, left a voicemail that he had found my smartwatch in the trash, found my brother’s number, called.

WHAT. THE. FUCK? 

so i call verizon.

hey verizon- can you look up on my account when i had a smart watch?

purchased: 2019

deactivated: 12/2022

it’s been deactivated for 3 years. and i KNOW when i deactivated it i did a factory reset on it. so. WHAT THE FUCK??

my brother sends me the voicemail from the dude. i call dude and leave a voicemail for him.

6:20 last night dude calls me back:

hey, i found your smartwatch dumpster diving at this apartment building.

THE APARTMENT I JUST MOVED OUT OF.

i found it about 3 weeks ago.

WHEN I WAS MOVING.

yeah, i dumpster dive all the time and find stuff people throw away and sell it. i found your watch and when i turned it on it had a lock screen but i could see the emergency contact information so i called it.

WHAT. THE. HOLY. FUCK??

so much for a factory reset? like. shouldn’t ALLLLLLLL that information have been removed? like WHAT THE FUCK VERIZON?

also, the sheer audacity. or stupidity. or both.

that apartment ALWAYS. ALWAYS. had people in the dumpster. ALWAYS. it was a constant issue. it changed the way i approach trash. it changed WHAT i throw away. it changed WHEN i could throw things away. i would make sure to only take my trash out on monday mornings at 7:30am because the trash truck came monday mornings at 8. i made sure to peel the labels off EVERYTHING so my name and address wasn’t just floating out there. **SIDE NOTE: online ordering/pick up is amazing, do they have to put my name on EVERY. FUCKING. BAG. with stickers that won’t come off?** i would cut up the fake credit cards in those shitty constant spammy offers, just in case. i would tear everything with ANY personal information into tiny shreds (or take it to work and literally shred it). i LOATHED that there were constantly people in the dumpsters.

my trash consisted of 80% potty pads from stella and 20% trash from the house. that’s DISGUSTING to dig through. used potty pads? ugh. the smell alone.

and this dude was openly admitting to digging through it, TO SELL THINGS.

i don’t even remember throwing the watch away. if anything it was maybe in one of the bags that was purge stuff that wasn’t quite good enough to donate (no one wants leggings with  mouse holes in them or sheets that were used as stella bedding). i’m sure it was something that i maybe glanced at, realized it wasn’t working at all when i deactivated it years ago, why put it in a box and take it to a new house?

but that this dude DUG IT OUT, CHARGED IT, TRACKED ME DOWN, and then had the audacity to ask if i remembered the password so he could unlock it and sell it?

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF.

no, you can’t have the password. smash it with a hammer. it was bricked out 3 years ago to begin with, you DUG THROUGH A DUMPSTER to find it, you dug through MY PERSONAL TRASH to find it, you VIOLATED MY PRIVACY tracking me down through emergency contacts, and you want me to just give you the password so you can try to sell it to someone?

FUCK. ALL. THE. WAY. OFF.

fuck i hated that building. dumpster divers were CONSTANT. all day, all night. didn’t matter what time i got home or left, there was someone digging through it, fenty folding next to it, or camped out in the alleyway next to it.

also: fuck apple and fuck verizon. what the fuck good is a FACTORY RESET if it still leaves information on the device??

as a domestic violence survivor? as an intimate partner abuse survivor? as a rape survivor? as someone who has been threatened with death from men SO MANY TIMES…are you fucking kidding me?

some dude digging through a dumpster can just track me down? from a 6 year old smart watch? that was disconnected 3 years ago? that was factory reset??

ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?

fuck verizon. fuck apple. fuck that building. fuck that shitty dumpster. fuck all of it.

AND ALSO:

thank you to the universe for keeping me safe for 6 years. thank you for not having this happen while i was still living there.

it’s fascinating that as soon as i asked the universe to remove the wards from that building and place them on my new home it INSTANTLY showed how protected i’d been. it makes me feel even safer in my new home. the wards obviously work. very, very well. thank you to my guardians. my ancestors. my protectors. my hell hounds. thank you for keeping me safe for the last 6 years. of all the things that happened in that shit building? i was remarkably safe through all of it. yes, i had death threats. yes, there were multiple dead bodies. yes, there were people breaking in through the fire escapes and the roof access and the main doors CONSTANTLY. in the 6 years i was there, i only had 2 unexpected knocks at my door: one from a neighbor who thought he could flirt, the other from another neighbor needing some help. for all the drug dealing and human trafficking and theft and destruction, i was remarkably safe. my car was gone through a few times but never damaged. i was threatened a few times but never harmed. my guardians have been working hella overtime the last 6 years. i hope this new place gives them a bit of a break.

speaking of the new place: all the boxes are empty. all the plants are in their new spaces. all the decorating things have found their new homes. all the things are put away. all but hanging art is done. i’ve met most of my new neighbors now. there’s the nice older gentleman that just moved in who was raking the leaves off the sidewalk. there’s the nice lady about my age with a pure black english bulldog named fat mama. there’s the two nice early 30’s gals above me that have 2 cats. there’s the single guy from iowa who is a regular at my bar. that’s 5 our of 7 units and the one across from me is empty right now, so basically everyone. my mail has been re-routed and the key on the box has been replaced. my first maintenance request is already completed. it is SO FANTASTIC. 

I KNOW (almost) ALL MY NEIGHBORS. and they’re nice, normal people. i’m settled in and so happy. 

as mad as i am about the smartwatch, i’m also that grateful for my new space. life is all about balance i guess.

chapter 45

 

well.

45 sure has started off with a bang.

october was a month.

october was a LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG month. 

it started with letting go of stella and ended with moving.

that’s a lot of change and letting go and literally moving on for ONE. FUCKING. MONTH.

i really hope november lets me take a moment to catch my breath.

i will say though: through it all, i am so eternally grateful to the universe for how well it all went.

i moved in 2 hours.

TWO. HOURS.

that’s insane.

7 people in total, myself, my partner, a co-worker, my kid, and his crew of helpers.

TWO. HOURS.

two trucks, one trailer, and several trips in the mini cooper. parking directly out front of the new place for unloading. everyone showed up on time, got to work, hammered it out (and back in) in TWO. HOURS. 

now that it’s all done and over and i’m not going to jinx anything: the lease worked out. the new manager was on time with the keys. the weather was PERFECT. after a solid week of rain i had 2 days of perfect weather: no rain, no snow, no blazing sun, just a happy goldilocks JUST RIGHT. no injuries. NO INJURIES. third floor. satan’s staircase. multiple trips by multiple people. NO INJURIES. i had exactly the right number of boxes to get all the plants out on the last trip. the only thing broken in sacrifice to the moving gods was a $20 mirror. I CAN DEAL WITH THAT. i plugged in my router at the new place and the internet worked. i turned on the floorboards and the heat worked. i plugged in lamps and the eclectic worked. my furniture fits EXACTLY in the new place. i mean EXACTLY. to the perfect inch.

no more drug dealers. no more squatters. no more dumpster divers. no more freezing all winter. no more sirens. no more parking lot lights and flood lights and building lights.

this was, in every possible sense of the experience, the perfect move. everyone met up at 11 and we were having pizza and beer by 1.

i am so insanely grateful. the universe aligned exactly and i am SO GRATEFUL.

friends and one of my bosses help with money. my brother not only sent me money, he didn’t even lecture me first AND wished me a “happy new chapter.” the same brother that called me a frog with a lighter under my ass once upon a time. no lecture, financial help, AND good wishes? amazing. 

a friend offered a hot tub night on saturday that was MUCH NEEDED. i was able to get sunday off work to be able to unpack. i had enough time to get enough things put away that i was able to get ready for work this morning without stepping over any boxes. AND MAKE COFFEE. coffee in the new place on a monday morning before work without stepping over boxes. that’s a good start to the week.

i am so grateful for how this weekend went.

in all my moves (so many moves), this one was by far the best and easiest.

i am so grateful.

i’ve met several of the new neighbors- one has an english bulldog named fat mama. broke my heart and healed it all at the same time. one of my neighbors spent sunday clearing the leaves off the sidewalk. already 100000000% improvement.

october was a kick in the teeth.

for sure.

but sometimes i think you need a kick in the teeth to remind you to get up out of the dirt. why are your teeth at kicking level girl? it might be time to elevate.

i did some full moon work last thursday and the message was loud and clear:

There is a new foundation. You are disconnecting and disengaging from an old way of being. The Taurus full moon focuses on home, routine, security, foundation, food, and cooking.

Are you really comfortable? Or just in your comfort zone?

Give yourself the ability to see life in a new way.

You’ve paid off old karma, it’s time to open up a new timeline.

YOU DON’T KNOW ME! good lord. not even a single ounce of energy spent trying to deny the universe speaking DIRECTLY TO ME on that one. (source: Chris Corsini Full Moon In Taurus workshop).

the number 9 in numerology is all about endings. 4+5=9. 2+0+2+5=9. that’s a LOT of endings all coming together at the same time.

i’m ready for new beginnings. i’m ready for a new timeline. i’m ready to get up out of the dirt and see what comes next.

chapter 45 started with a bang.

let’s see where it goes now.

rebooting is cool, right?

everyone in hollywood is rebooting everything they can now days.

everything is being refreshed, reworked. newer script, better production, bigger budgets.

the stories you love, ENHANCED!

so. basically. i'm super trendy.

reboot: she was a single mom, struggling to get by, stressed out raising teenagers in an ever changing world. she was doing all the things she was "supposed" to do, NOW she's doing the things she WANTS to do.

chaos! drama! tears! painfully deep insights you wish you could pretend you didn't notice! emotional eating to the max! teenage eye rolling SO EXTREME you'll swear his eyes will get stuck in his head!

rated R for language.



well, it's all done. the house has sold, passed inspection, met appraisal value, and it's all over but the signing. 

the apartment is secured, deposit paid, rental insurance acquired.

boxes are packed, furniture sold/given away, rental truck reserved.

HERE WE GO: REBOOT TIME.

the teenager said about six times last night "I can't wait to see the new apartment!"

he's excited. i'm nervous. and sad. and...relieved?

is that the right word?

it's a strange moment for me. moving is nothing new. i've moved 14 times since being out on my own. but this is the longest we've ever stayed anywhere- 6 years. and we *thought* we'd be there forever. our house. OURS. owned outright.

but it just isn't us.

the teenager surprised me the other night- "i'd move all the time if we could."

gypsy blood runs deep.

trust kid- if moving wasn't such a pain in the ass, if jobs weren't required for living, if i could get over my emotional attachment to ridiculously large furniture, i'd move all the time.

living in an airstream and just...going...sounds AMAZING. just GO. throw a dart at a map. it hold a certain appeal for sure.

i'm trying to take the time in all the chaos to appreciate the house for what it's been. i did a final firepit in the back yard this weekend with friends and after everyone left, i took a moment to sit on the back deck and just...look. look at what i'd created, remember the last summer of book club, bbq's, conversations, dinners alfresco with the kiddo. i took the time to appreciate the work that got it to the point of being a place i enjoyed. the twinkle lights, the fire pit area, the calm feeling sitting out there provided. and i KNOW, i know that's not gone forever. i can recreate that wherever i go. yes, it will be smaller, but i can still create a space that has the same feeling, the lights, the calm. it won't be the EXACT SAME, but that's ok.

i took time last night to really appreciate- it's been a good house, despite all the stress and heartache. all the projects that went sideways, all the small things that have been a thorn in my side, all the project that never got started...it was still a damn good house. it was everything i could have ever picked. covered front porch, big back deck, fenced yards, old school architecture, the turret. it is everything. EVERYTHING i could have picked for a house. and it was mine. i got a chance to try it.

remember the honda element? same thing. the car i wanted. i did my research, i picked it out. it was mine. i got a chance to try it.

in the end, neither worked for me, and that's ok. they served their purpose. my dad provided me a chance to TRY. how many people can say that?

i've been through...well...a few emotions. this is the house my dad gave me. this is what i was "supposed" to do. this was the "correct" step. the "adult" decision.

i've battled letting that go. i've battled the guilt and the feelings of failure.

IT'S OK. i didn't fail. i tried. it didn't work for me. that's not a failure. that's learning. that's growing. that's experience. none of that is failure. my dad wouldn't be ashamed or mad. he knew i was a quirky duck. he knew i didn't fit the "supposed to" mold. that's why my brother exists. he's the round peg in the round hole. he knew what career he wanted when he was a kid. he's had his future planned since...forever. he's happy and content in a planned, routine life, structured.

i never fit that. dad wanted me to be a nurse. i can't handle blood. injuries gross me out. do. not. talk to me about surgery unless you want to see what i had for breakfast.

dad wanted me to settle down and have a good corporate career. i don't do well as a cog in a machine. i like a job where i make a difference.

dad was annoyed by tattoos and colored hair.

but, at the end of all of it, he loved me, he respected me decisions, he learned to trust my abilities. he was always nervous seeing what new apartment i had rented, but always came back a few weeks later proud and impressed by how i could make any place home. i scared him, but i think it was more as a parent not wanting harm for his daughter than actual fear of what would happen.

i know right now he'd be shaking his head and asking WHY???? and ARE YOU SURE?? a hundred times, but he'd also be there to help pack the truck and cursing a blue streak helping me assemble new furniture.

*side note* hey dad, i can afford to buy REAL furniture that doesn't need assembled now. no more impossible instruction books and alan wrenches and scraped knuckles.

well...mostly...there may be a few things still in my future...i'll keep my collection of alan wrenches just in case.



SO. here we go. the truck comes tomorrow. well, i go pick up the truck tomorrow.

everything is pared down, packed, ready to go.

here's to the next chapeter.

where did alice go when she left wonderland?

wherever. the. fuck. she. wanted.