Despite waking up with the kind of cough that makes vestigial organs quiver, fearing they will be violently expelled with the next spasm, today ended up being an unexpected shining star. That's hard to say after puking up your breakfast of Wellbutrin, Ricola, and diet Pepsi 5 minutes before you rasped in to work. I would say called, but you have to have a voice for that.
For the couple of hours I was awake during the day, I had Kleenex packed into my nostrils, a cold beverage within reach, and the whaaaaambulance on speed dial. Thank goodness Thunderhead was kind enough to bring me some 'Tussin for the coughing. I had started tasting blood from the force of them. (I've been known to say go big or go home, and my cough takes that very seriously.)
Last week, Thunderhead and I were spitballing the idea of actually moving in together. Over the course of about five conversations with several different people, and a roundabout journey, he ended up at a showing for a 3 bedroom duplex just this morning. What was once playful daydreams, or semi-serious talk about grabbing the next apartment that opened up in the building was turning into something that might actually happen.
And hour or so after his appointment was set to start, he reports back to me as I lay in my mentholated stupor. The place sounds pretty perfect. The outlets are grounded, it has central air, there's plenty of room to store anything we have duplicates of, and likely room to make 2 adults and 2 occasional kids work. What's a good word that combines enthusiasm, terror, and a love/hate relationship with change? That's what I felt in that moment. So much would have to be done. And yet, that's not really an excuse, knowing the mountains that I turned into gravel in the past.
The biggest possible roadblock was the credit check. It's no secret I've got an active Chapter 13 bankruptcy on the books. I have till April 2015 till it's discharged. Last time I checked, I had a score that was in the low 500s. Coming from being a 23 year old who bought her first new $30,000 car without a cosigner, that was painful. But I knew it would happen because of the bankruptcy and short sale on my house. If my financial life was a high efficiency toilet, I pressed the heavy duty button and flushed some shit down the drain all at once. That might have been enough to nip all those hopes right in their green little buds. So, I pulled my score. What I found amazed me. In the past two years, my score has risen close to 100 points. I'm in the middle of what the car industry would call tier three credit, and rising. And I still have a little over a year to go. The dread that life was over after filing bankruptcy? It seems that too has passed. Or is passing. Liberating, really.
Lastly, it seems that this duplex has been sitting empty for about 4 months and that makes the property management company is willing to negotiate on terms. So, the money might be more right than wrong. I'm so intrigued that we've set up an appointment to go see it together on Friday.
Aside from calling in sick and feeling like the stop of my skull will crack and pop off with each cough, today's conscious hours have been a pretty amazing.