Being a gypsy is embedded in your DNA or it isn’t. You either have roots or wings; it’s rare to have both. I’ve always preferred wings, even if I didn’t always use them. Roots are terrifying.
In an attempt to grow roots, I bought a house. When the sun was up and I was ankle deep in mud playing in the garden last weekend, it was pure bliss. Monday was a completely different can of worms.
The water heater died and the floors on the ground floor have been gutted down to the concrete. The frustration is it was literally scheduled for middle of next month to be replaced. It was meant to be this month but I had unexpected visitors so figured pushing it back 3 weeks wouldn’t make a difference. Yeah, right.
While dealing with that, I had my water tested only to find it’s not fit to drink. Enter stage left: black mold, which was deliberately hidden by the sellers.
The silver lining is if the water hadn’t flooded my house, the mold would still be neatly hidden and growing out of sight. The ramifications don’t bare thinking about. So all the new floors are gone; half the kitchen is gutted down to the studs to remove the mold; I have a shiny new water heater; 19 industrial fans that sound like an airport runway at rush hour which will be blowing for 4 days total; every square inch has a layer of dust over it; my furniture is strewn around and everything is out of place; using the kitchen is out of the question unless you like dusty food; my furnace and AC were ripped out and replaced because they’re old and about to go so before they destroy what’s left of my house, they were replaced; I haven’t slept since Monday; it’s safer to drink wine/scotch than the toxic shit in my taps; and I want to find the sellers and rip their spines out and feed it to the neighbour’s dog.
WHO DOES THAT?! How do you KNOW there is black mold and instead of dealing with it, just cover it with laminate, knock a board over it and paint it white?! Karma will level their playing field at some point but right now I’ve imagined every conceivable way to dismember their rotting bodies…. Maybe I really did live in the Dark Ages with a side gig as a prison warden/executioner.
Upgrading the floors was on the list to do in about 2 years; that’s now been ramped up to immediately, so maybe that’s a blessing. My budget doesn’t think so right now. I have to believe that this too shall pass but at this sleep-deprived, caffeine-fueled moment, I wish I’d never changed my name. If I hadn’t, I’d have my visa and be living in the only place I want to be.
Instead I chose roots and it feels like I’ll never have wings again. Regret…. this is definitely topping the list of regrets right now. I’ll get my wings back and it’s safe to assume that roots will never cross my horizon again.
