This is your captain speaking. We’re hitting some bumpiness. It’ll be pretty uncomfortable. Please fasten your seat belts.
Oh wait. We have no seat belts! Budget cuts. Looks like you’re on you’re own. Good luck, guys!
Dammit, Denver, whaddya doin’?!
That’s the best of what I can conjure up in a single phrase from puzzlement, frustration and amusement.
Let’s quickly review the first month:
Weeks 1, 2 and 3:
Looking for a place to live. Much longer than ANY place of the dozens upon dozens I’ve lived, including Japan, which has its own unique housing challenges, particularly for foreigners. Securing housing in Denver’s actually harder than in Japan! Go figure!
A search made long and arduous by the ubiquitous lack of response. Again, unique to Denver.
Apparently the Chill factor characterizing the city has a dark side. It manifests as “I’m too busy or involved with my own life to notice you” and variations thereof, i.e., “I’m having too much fun in my own life to notice you” … “I’m too busy playing outdoors to respond to emails” … etc. etc.
The dark side of Chill and plain ol’ common discourtesy make for a rocky landing.
My early take subject to revisions and tweakings.
Housing secured. It’s not a bad deal and the best, including most affordable, of the four places viewed. (What?! Only four in three weeks and after all that laborious dedicated looking?!?! Scheisse!)
The primary roommate — as defined by presence in the house, which is most of the time since she’s retired, and personality — is revealed as dominating, exceptionally petty and rigid, hard of hearing (as in unable to listen to, process or make room for another’s view or character) and very controlling.
Not judgments. Observations. And not fun to live with.
Animals. Two dogs and two cats — three counting the semi-domesticated feral who pops over.
Especially when I’m really down after being hit over the head with the wet mop designated for said purpose and NOT the one designated for linoleum — get it straight and don’t mop again! — the sight of an animal comforts. Truly.
A furnished room. Granted, a small room. However, it does come with a bed as well as additional luxuries of small dresser and desk, sparing the immediate expense of a bed on a budget already taxed far beyond expectation and planning (three weeks in a motel — OUCH! and that’s another Denver-related first).
Yes, the room’s small. Works to my advantage, however. By having no place to unpack much but the bare essentials, most everything remains in boxes — in a corner — ready for the next move! Eazy-breezy.
Greatest Perks of All:
No more fucking debilitating depressing gray and cold day after fucking day.
Immediate (noticeable within three days) and vastly improved physical health and mood thanks to a a climate of sunshine, warmth and dry clear air.
With God as my witness, I’ll never be hungry for sun — or in the Gray Zone — again!
What more can I say?
It’s been a rugged hard landing.
I haven’t been shot.
Said tongue-in-cheeck as I do reside in a neighborhood just outside Denver that’s known for its violence, gangs, dangers, darkness and general crap. Yes, the resemblance to Tacoma doesn’t escape me. Yes, it’s just coincidence.
Housing could be better – and will be in time. It could be worse. Good to remember that when the plane dives into an air pocket.
Looking ahead: What this girl desires and needs now is gainful employment. Yes, looking and applying; as yet: