Hey, It hasn't QUITE been a month!

 May has been a LOT on all fronts. Work has been crazy busy with ridiculous demands: 

PM: "Hey, we forgot to involve you at the start of this project, our bad! We're really sorry. Now, how fast can you get your part done?" 

Me: "Normally a project of this size would take 10 weeks," (explains the calculations).  

PM: "Can you do it by May 16th?" 

Me: "That's a little less than 4 weeks." 

PM: (wheedling like a kid who wants ice cream before dinner): "I know, but..."(insert schedule woes here).

And that's just one project. And they wonder why I threaten to go park cars at Disney.

My retirement date remains "Somewhere in the future...." 

Meanwhile: That House will be under contract this week and will close mid-June. My time as The Accidental Landlady is coming to an end, a decade past when I'd thought it would. (I was so young and foolish in my 50s.) I am not getting enough equity out of it to retire this summer, so yeah, looks like I'll be doing what I'm doing for a while longer. I'll evaluate after the next quarter. 

Meanwhile, I've got job searches set up for Disney and Disney-adjacent opportunities, because you never know. If a role I really want at Disney appears, you bet your ass I'll apply.

My employer offers financial advice through a 3rd party company, and they had a "Planning for Retirement" online seminar the other day, so of course I signed up. Apparently I'm already doing everything they advise, so that's both reassuring and totally not. 

Not, because the main thing that struck me was how their advice started: "You need to think about what you're going to do next, after you leave your current career." They weren't talking about traveling, hobbies, etc. They were talking about getting a "retirement job."  

Basically, these financial planners told their audience that yeah, if you want your retirement funds to last to the end of your days, you really need to think about at least part time work for a few years after you leave your career. Do consulting, get a part time job doing something different (my plan) but stay in the job market as long as you can.

I know this is true and good and sound advice, but damn, it's sobering to have financial planners saying, in the nicest way, that they strongly recommend that you don't totally retire when you retire, so you can survive whatever happens in the economy and won't outlive your money. 

This is of course far easier said than done. 

The cleaning out of The House was eye-opening, for sure. It made me want to get rid of all my worldly goods now. It has been depressing to see how much shit was still stored there, in closets and in the garage, that had been stored for decades and which, when hauled out into the light of day made absolutely no sense to hold onto, and I'm finally more than ready to trash. 

It has made me a rabid proponent of Swedish death cleaning. Not that I'm planning to die anytime soon, but because I'd really love to live in an organized and decluttered house NOW. I've been on a binge this weekend, and it feels really good. 

I've said it before, but my inability to get rid of shit is hereditary. I'm really aware of that now. When I see something I don't need my first thought is always, "Somebody could use this!" and I stare at it for a while and then put it back where it was. 

I did it this weekend: I was purging cabinets of duplicate and unused kitchen stuff and discovered that I have THREE identical Pyrex glass pie plates.

No, I do not know why I have 3.  So I texted the above picture to my daughter asking if she could use one, and her answer came back almost immediately: "I have 2." 😂

A much needed reminder that nobody really truly needs your shit; they have their own.

Except when they do need your shit. I've had a small table and chairs against the wall in my kitchen, I am not kidding when I say I think it was used twice in the last decade. It just took up space, and I kept telling myself it had to go. So yesterday I posted it on the neighborhood FB page, free to a good home, and I swear to God within 5 minutes a couple who live around the corner DMed me and claimed it. It was exactly what she'd been looking for, and I was so happy to give it to somebody who will actually use it. The only creature who ever utilized it was Ellie, it was her perch to look out the front windows.

I'd been meaning to get rid of it for literally years, but never got around to it.  It was gone to its new home within 20 minutes of my offering it.

 

Likewise, Ellie's "dining table" had been in my office for the last decade. She eats on a super basic IKEA end table to keep the dogs out of her food. It had been in my office because there was no room in the kitchen. I also had a cat bed/tree in a box since Christmas, because I'd been intending to make this change forever. Yesterday the table and chairs left, the cat perch was assembled, and the cat dining table replaced the unused human table. The transformation took about 45 minutes from posting on Facebook to the cat checking out her new spot. 

I'd put it off forever because, because I don't know why. 

Anyway, multiply that by everything I own, because I'm on a roll.

 

 

 

 

STAND BACK; Applying Blog Defibrillator Paddles.

It worked! It's alive!!

So, okay, what's been going on in the last couple of months?

I did not retire yet. I now have no idea when I'll retire. Everything is too damn unstable right now, my 401K is on a roller coaster, etc. I'm hoping to have a better grasp of the situation in 3-6 months. And that's as close as I'll get to talking about the flaming dumpster fire that is the country right now. My blood pressure and sleep are my priority.

I'm still being totally upfront with my boss, I've told her that I'm on a quarter by quarter plan and I'll give her plenty of notice when I know what the hell I'm doing. Changes at work that aren't entirely bad for me so far have made me suddenly busier than the proverbial one-armed paperhanger, but that's better than bored and depressed. Now I'm busy as fuck and depressed. Not severely depressed, just resigned to, okay, yeah, whatever the fuck happens I'll roll with it. It's the not knowing what will happen from one week to the next that is exhausting and depressing.

That part-time retirement job at Disney? That's also on a wait and see basis. Word is that international tourism has fallen off a cliff because ain't nobody wanting to deal with the American Shitshow, so while it's still my plan/dream/goal, tourism is taking an entirely predictable hit. Still too early to tell how domestic tourism to FL will be affected. 

It's anecdotal, I know, but I am subscribed to the Disney job boards, prepared to jump on any suitable part time opportunity. I would get emails a couple of times a week about new openings, in everything from wastewater treatment plant operations to costuming. I realized this week that I've only had one email lately, for servers. 

So I'll keep doing what I'm doing, and continue to be grateful to have a good job with a good company that just quietly shrugged and continues to take good care of its people and hasn't abandoned DEI. It could be far worse and I know it, and I really am grateful to be riding through this craziness in relative sanity, at least so far. I'll be 67 in June and I'd really, really like to retire and do something more fun, but hey, I'm not on my feet waiting tables in a diner all day, so I really cannot bitch about my situation. Everything is awful, but at least so far I can muddle through it day by day.

So, otherwise, how's the coping with the shit show going? Is everything bleak? No, actually, it's not.

One of the big pieces of my "retirement plan" is finally happening: my daughter and her significant other have found a house and are vacating the "investment property" that has been a yoke around my neck for the last decade plus.  They're moving May 1.  This was both a long time coming and then happened very fast; they were looking for a while, looking for a single family home with enough space and pet friendly, etc. Nothing that exciting turned up, and we'd kind of mentally marked June as the likely moving month, but then they found a house they liked with a May 1 occupancy date. I cannot complain, because I'm the one who found the house. Oops.

I didn't pick it out for them, like "Mommy says you should move here". I just saw it online and loved it and sent the link to my daughter, with a comment like, "Damn I love this! Did you see it yet?" She just sort of shrugged it off at first, and they kept looking. There were a couple of nice prospects, but they kept it in mind. 

Then they looked at it and went back and looked again, and the leasing company was cool with their pets, and the Kid and the Prince get to stay in their current schools, so now it's a done deal. And I can sell the "investment" property before hurricane season hits again and nobody's writing homeowners' policies when a storm is out there and it's all nuts.

Plus, the new place is MUCH nicer, with an airy open floor plan centered around a fireplace, a beautiful kitchen with glass front cabinets, a gas range, and a greenhouse window, a huge screened porch, and a  loft space in the master bedroom, which could be used as a home office if the spiral staircase isn't too annoying. 

There's also a much bigger bedroom for the Kid, with a nice built-in closet system in the generous closet. She saw the size of her new room and was immediately on board; her current room is about 10x10 with a tiny closet, because 40 years ago builders apparently didn't understand that children GROW. She's totally on board and stoked about moving, and that's a big plus when dealing with an outspoken 13 year old. The Prince also gets a decent sized room that's still bigger than his sister's current cell.

The new place has a kind of 70s boho vibe, but very nicely updated. I'm totally envious. I My daughter's excited and can't wait to decorate it.

Her excitement is catching, and it has inspired me to want to make improvements to my own living space. AFTER the house sells and I see where I am financially, I need to make some needed updates. "Deferred Maintenance" should be the title of the memoir I'll never get around to writing.

But that's for later. Starting now I have two mortgages to cover until the house is sold. I do have money set aside for the situation so I can swing it if it doesn't last too long, so let's hope it sells in 60-90 days, because beyond 90 and it's gonna get complicated. 

But it's time to do it, before the Trump Shitshow tanks the housing market too (it'll happen) and the next hurricane comes through. I want out. I want to bank whatever equity I can salvage and add it to the retirement bucket and be done with my life as The Accidental Landlady. It was a "temporary" plan that ended up dragging on over 13 years.  I'm glad to see it finally end.

So next week will be the starter's pistol for a whole lot of changes, including, finally, THE SELLING OF THE HOUSE!!!  As soon as they're out the door I'll be in there figuring out if there's anything left behind that I actually want, then hiring a junk hauler to clean out whatever shit's left, talking to realtors, getting it listed, etc. etc. Fingers crossed it all gets done in 60 days. 

But Catherine, we're here for the DOGS! How are the DOGS? 

Both are still utterly delightful. Eddie remains a sweet, cuddly, noisy, hilarious little clown. Gidget is fine, but yeah, I can see she's slowing down. We don't really know how old she is. 5 years ago the "rescue guesstimate" was that she was 4, but hell, she could have been 6 or older? Who knows? 

The vets suspect she's older than guessed, while Eddie is clearly younger than animal control thought when they picked his neglected little runaway ass off the streets in Osceola County. After he was cleaned up and my vet took a look she guessed he was no more than 2, and I dialed that back by several months when he continued growing after coming to live with me. He's now taller, longer, wider, and just overall a bigger dog; he didn't just fill out from his starving urchin situation, his bones kept growing. So I've declared that he'll be 3 years old on his Gotcha Day in June - 1 year-ish before Gotcha and 2 since. It feels accurate.

Gidget is fine, she's cute and happy and not ill, but she sleeps deeply, snores like a little bear, needs the occasional urgency trip at 2 a.m., has cataracts, and doesn't seem to hear all that well at times, though that might be selective deafness. She's still ridiculously cute and smart and sweet and perfect in every way. Except for those midnight emergencies, but those are few and far between. Hey, we all drink too much liquids before bedtime sometimes.

The humans are all splendid too. The Kid is finishing 7th grade in her usual style, kicking ass and excelling at everything she does. The Prince is absolutely delightful in every way, bright and funny and just the nicest, most easygoing kid ever. 

So, while I am active on Bluesky and still on Facebook and read and rant about politics in small doses, this blog will remain occasionally updated about coping with the shitshow. I'm reading a ton, crocheting a ton, sleeping fairly well most nights, and just waiting to see what the hell will happen next. I swear I'll keep the Few and the Loyal readers updated on the house sale and other adventures, but I am pre-exhausted thinking about the next month. Or so.

 

 

Updates on this and that.

 The new HVAC installation was a long but lovely experience. Three very nice young men arrived, I corralled the animals in my bedroom, and they got to it. I did take the dogs out, on leashes, through their work when needed, and there was a love fest with Eddie. 

One of the baby faced but highly skilled young techs reminded me of somebody, and after a bit it clicked: Charlie from The West Wing, but even better looking. He had beautiful eyes and that polished, calm, professional attitude Charlie exuded, and he wasn't even the leader of the team. The lead was an equally handsome guy with a very slight Eastern European? maybe? accent. I didn't interact much with the third guy, I gathered that he was a trainee. He was the blond surfer dude, but he also knew his shit. 

None of them were 30 years old. Okay, maybe they were as old as 33, but to me they were babies. I don't believe they were chosen for their looks, they knew what they were doing and were quiet, respectful, friendly, and did impeccable work, but I do think the company is losing a marketing opportunity by not putting them in ads. Though on second thought that might backfire, because they were so young and cute, people might assume they were just pretty faces.

It was an entirely positive experience in every way. I've praised them under my real name, but if you happen to wander in here and want a great AC company in Central Florida, just ask. 

Then, this week on Monday...this happened. At around 9:30 am my phone began screaming a tornado warning. I'm jaded about tornado watches, we do that all the time, but an actual tornado in the neighborhood is rare and scary. It was a bit hard to find the details about where it was and where it was moving, and the weather outside was not helpful. It looked tornado-y. It was scary. The lights flickered and I was contemplating grabbing the dogs and heading for the hall bathroom, for what it's worth as shelter, when I finally found a report that it was moving northeast of me. 

I know the neighborhood where it touched down, it's a couple of miles as the tornado flies, and dear God, the people in the house that was destroyed were so lucky! Reports afterward said that if they hadn't sheltered in that one room that stayed intact they'd probably have died. 

I was working from home but was to join a meeting at 10 am. It was delayed because everybody in the building was sheltering in the stairwells. An 18 wheeler on the nearby highway was tipped over, but the driver and his dog both were uninjured.  

It continued onward to threaten my boss's house before finally dissipating and heading over the ocean. 

I've been in Florida my entire adult life, and I've been guilty about joking about how tornadoes are attracted to trailer parks, yuk yuk. Trailers are certainly much more vulnerable, but the jokes are stupid.

That house that was destroyed was no trailer, it was a big house in an old established neighborhood. I don't know who lived there, but they were smart and had a plan for the most secure location in that house, and it absolutely saved their lives. 

And this, boys and girls, is why you have to take your storm shelter plans seriously. 

Other stuff, mostly good, has been going on. I shall not comment on the national shitshow because blood pressure, but overall, just keep on keeping on.

Disney Is Self Care.

 February was a financially challenging and not at all fun month, as I saw my emergency savings severely dented by the death of the ancient HVAC system. Not surprising, but still, ugh.

Yesterday's Magic Kingdom day cured at least some of my ills. 

We got a late start to the park because the Kid had a judged solo flute performance, some county-wide school thing. It wasn't a competition but sort of was. If I understand it correctly (not sure I do) schools send students to be evaluated as an example of their music program? So the Kid was sent forth to be the sound of the flute at her middle school. 

And yeah, it's almost boring at this point, but she was excellent. The "judge" (in quotes because this wasn't quite a competition) was very complimentary about her command of her instrument, and asked about her future plans and whether she was getting private instruction, and The Kid responded with that the next step was mastering her bravado? As far as I can tell, it means playing the flute like a badass. Think Lizzo. 

The judge-person was very complimentary about her talent, and though she was reportedly nervous, her mom sent a video taken from the wings and she sure didn't look it. She looked cool as ice, poised, relaxed, tapping her toe to the beat. Maybe all those years of performing in dance weren't wasted, she's been prepped for performance since she was 3. 

So, anyway, this kid randomly picked the flute as her instrument when starting middle school last year, had never touched an instrument before, and has raced through the program, skipping some intermediary step into orchestra? (Grandma can't keep up.) And she's doing the same thing with volleyball, but without makeup and with half the girl drama of dance. She's still friends with girls from her Dance Era, and some of them have joined her in defecting to other sports, so we still get the Dance Drama stories, and I'm glad she's out of it. 

And then there's this kid, the Prince.  This is Himself in hour 6 of an afternoon at Magic Kingdom, after the morning with Big Sister's music thing, and after riding Buzz Lightyear, the People Mover, eating dinner, and having had a 20 minute Power Nap in daddy's arms while we rode the Haunted Mansion. We kept thinking he'd crash in his stroller at some point, the weather was lovely, low 70s, light cloud cover, and a breeze, comfy napping conditions, but he's all about the Disney experiences. We'd recline his stroller, thinking he looked sleepy and would pass out, and he'd struggle to sit up.  Here, we were discussing what we should do next.  (His next rides were the monorail out and then the ride to the parking lot, but at his age, it's all good.) I love this picture because though he's not at his most bubbly and really could use a nap, he's just like, "Yeah, it's been a long day but what's next?" He's a beast. He's usually all smiles and giggles, but I love this glimpse of his future thoughtful boy face.

His mom reported that he did sleep in the car on the way home, then got his third wind to continue the party. 

I've taken the day off tomorrow for New AC Day, because let's get real, none of my real work can be done. The air handler is in a closet right outside my home office, Eddie will be losing his mind wanting to participate in the work, Gidget will be terrified, and I'm going to be the ringmaster of the circus. Ellie will just be under the bed until it's quiet. I'm taking my laptop and some stuff to the bedroom where we will camp out and watch TV and I'll do whatever I can while the professionals give this condo a heart and lung transplant. I need to have a word with the condo management company again, they sent me a "friendly reminder" of unpaid dues for Feb, for which I have a bank statement showing when I paid them. I mean, yay that they've actually started giving monthly notices that their accounting department is behind instead of not saying anything for 3 months and then threatening collections? Progress?

I'm gonna go sit on the couch with the dogs and knit something. I'll check in post AC Day. Crossed fingers it goes smoothly. 

Digging deep to find something positive, though very small.

This refers to the wise advice I read online about coping: do what you can to keep your own life in order, pay attention, but take breaks, because we are in this for the long haul.

 I'm getting a new AC system on Monday, so yay?  The temporary fix the very nice tech rigged (while telling me it would work for now but not for long) failed on Wednesday afternoon. It stopped cooling, and then the compressor started making comical noises: first it rattled, then there was a pop, then there was a whistling sound like air from a very large balloon. It's really most sincerely dead. 

I was already getting prices and trying to decide whether I wanted to finance it short term or just write a check, and planned to replace it later this month, but yeah, the installers will be here bright and early Monday and I'm just writing a check, because fuck it.

So, the positive: if your AC has to die, it's lovely when it happens when it's not over 90 degrees. I'm using the ancient ceiling fans I rarely run to circulate the air. It would have been great if I'd had the money to replace the windows, because this is definitely open windows and ceiling fans season here, but, yeah, the AC jumped to the head of the line by being brought back from the dead a few weeks ago and then doing a really over the top dramatic death scene. 

So I'll have a lovely new much more efficient AC system, but still can't open these 40+ year old windows. (I can open the big sliding doors at the rear and that's most of the air flow, it's just two front facing windows that would offer circulation if they worked, but yeah, if I open them they very likely won't properly close again. They're older than my middle-aged kids.) And then they become a security issue. One of these non-functioning windows is in my home office. I will never take cross-ventilation for granted again. 

Also the positive: I have the cash on hand to take care of it, and I'm getting a bonus that will at least partially replenish the emergency fund taking the hit for this. Hoping my daughter and fam will be able to vacate the "investment property" by summer, because that would help a lot. I'm just hoping I can sell it for the current value before the housing market is affected by the shitshow.

See me being positive?? 

I'm getting out of my not miserably warm but slightly stuffy house tomorrow, because my daughter the Ninja Disney Scheduler has set us up for an afternoon at Magic Kingdom. She booked me for Space Mountain, and my knees growled threateningly. I will pass on that, thanks. It turns out that Baby Daddy has lived in FL for years and had been to Disney before, but has never been on Space Mountain!! I agreed that he must do it at least once, to confirm that it's just uncomfortable and dated. Sorry, sorry, it's a classic!! I dare not speak heresy! I've been on it somewhere between 20 and infinity times, and yeah, each time I tell myself it's the last. I will not be coaxed into it again.

I'll wait with the young Prince, and possibly the Kid. She's not crazy about Space Mountain either. Our alternative will be Auntie Gravity's for some ice cream while we wait for them. 

As far as the national shitshow goes, I do believe we now have confirmation that the Republicans sold us out to Russia, and I hope that everybody who voted for this, (or didn't vote because Kamala's position on Gaza or whatever the fuck) will eat shit and die. You created this international disgrace and your kids and grandchildren will have to live with your dumbfuckery, or possibly not live. 

Meanwhile, those of us who saw this coming from miles off will just have to figure out how to navigate this. I really didn't plan to spend my "golden years" fighting fascism, but here we are.  Right now it seems like a bunch of incompetent flailing, "Oh wait, did we fire the people who take care of the nukes, or (fill in the blank)? Our bad!! Air traffic controllers, please come back! 

They really don't give a shit about governing, or the American people, or whatever bullshit they used to say. it's all out in the open now. 

You voted for Trump, or couldn't vote for Harris for whatever bullshit reason you use to cover your racism and misogyny?  Fuck off and die. That's all I've got. Coincidentally, that's all your Orange Savior has for you too.