When you live on the edge of financial disaster, every little cent matters. I’ve written about the condo nazis and losing my home. I’m moving down to my mother’s home. There are numerous small things that need to be done to the place. It’s nothing bad, nor expensive. When my father was nearing his final stages of Alzheimer’s, the garage door broke. Good. We did not fix it. It was one less exit and one less escape route. Now, though, we need a fix. It will cost nearly two thousand dollars to repair the entire garage door. My mother and I have talked, for ages, about removing the garage door, and framing in a regular security door. You would think I’m trying to engineer the dang Panama Canal. It’s simple. It will be half the price of a garage door. We want the room, not the garage. If I do it the way I want to to it, I can put the litter boxes out in the garage, and not worry about someone opening it, and the cats getting outside. The minute they step foot outside, they are dead. There are going to be ten cats in the house.
I need to replace a toilet, lavatory, and tile a bathroom, so I can have a shower. There needs to be some basic painting, and removing the myriad of shelves I have in the condo, and putting them up in various configurations in the house, especially in closets. It is imperative the gates in the courtyard be repaired. I need to purchase sixty lightbulbs. The yard is a disaster. I can’t afford to do it myself.
Bottom line, the place is out in the country where there are numerous mountain lions. There are occasional bears, bobcats, wolves, and coyotes. I need to be safe. I need to transfer broadband service to a different company. The cellar needs to be waterproofed – again. None of this is a big deal. I’ve budgeted, plotted, planned, studied, and priced. The cost of equipment I need, is going to run about $2000. The quote on the garage is $750. The quote for the cellar is $375. Worst case scenario for the bath is $2200.
We’re looking at a worst-case budget of $7500. For me, that’s an impossible amount of money. BUT – I sold an acre of land for $7000! Less the commission, I was looking at $6000. I had a performance bonus on a contract. I was to get $5000. I was looking at around $11,000 by the first of October.
Yea, right. That’s not how the world works. Apparently, the trust attorney never told me what I was to required to do with property transfers before my father died. I’m now required to take that $6000 from the land sale, and deduct $2000 for probate. We’re down to $4000. I can deal with that. But – instead of a closing date of September 8, we’re now looking at November 2. (If I’m lucky.) Out of that I was going to be required to pay $400 in property taxes or I would lose a small parcel of land in SC.
Are you following the bouncing ball?
I called the guy who owed me the $5000 performance bonus. He sent me $1000 today. Out of that, after spending $400 for taxes, another $144 for cell service I share with my mother. My power is going to be disconnected in a few days. I owe about $100 for that. I had to buy dog food, litter, and people food today. Of that $1000, I’ll have a grand total of about $90 left over for what I should have had $3900!
And – you wonder why my head hurts and I have migraines. I’ve spent nearly $600 this month, getting homeowners straight. I had to borrow $400 from a friend for that. This is just so frustrating. If people had done what they had said they were going to do, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
I’m a little annoyed right now. I’ve had to sell quite a bit of jewelry to be melted to scrap, just to make ends meet. Yea, I’m very bitter about that. If people had done what they had promised to do, and now screwed me over, not given me the shaft, I would not need to do that. Oh, it gets better. UPS is so expensive, I was not able to buy insurance for the package. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping it arrives in Seattle, safely.
I don’t want something for nothing. I just want a break. I want to be treated – fairly. I’m losing my home and would like a little compassion and sympathy, but I feel like I’m not allowed to have any. The other night I dreamed that I was being executed by the condo board, because I ran out of money. No matter how I begged for help, no one would lift a finger to help me. It is how I feel. I know it isn’t true. I have a couple friends who have been wonderful. What I’ve noticed is people are willing to help those they don’t know, but very few people even give a shit about helping a friend get out of a black hole which is not of their making. I’m in this mess because I gave up my life to help deal with my father and his Alzheimer’s Disease. I gave up my career, my social life, what savings I did have. My hair is falling out due to stress. I’m exhausted. I have no health insurance. I keep chest pains. I’m so upset this week I’m having a hard time breathing.
The worst of it is the ongoing humiliation of not having enough to survive. My clothes are falling apart. I only wear a couple things so that I won’t mess up my good clothes. It’s been so long since I’ve worn make-up I’ve managed to forget how to put on eye make-up. I do without the very basics of life. Because I have a problem with my right arm, I can’t use a regular razor to shave my legs. My electric razor is DOA. So much for shaving my legs. Pedicures are a thing of the past. I need to get out of this condo before winter. I can’t afford the heating bills where I live.
All I want is a break. It’s obvious I’m not going to be getting one, anytime soon. Yes, I have turned things over to the Lord. I have faith. My problem is the fact that, when you’ve been down on your luck for awhile, your friends don’t want to be around you. Most people treat you like dirt. We live in a world where compassion no longer exists. Because I’m losing my home – because the HOA president lied to me about things, I can’t even take out a loan on the condo. I’m losing my equity and the only thing I had been able to salvage. When you are completely broke, you look at things, differently. With the exception of John and Rosemary, I don’t have a single friend who things I’m good enough to go out with them, for dinner, at night. I’m no longer good enough to be invited to a party. I’ve been banished from polite society.
The last thing I want is pity. I just want my old life. I want a real, working computer so I can get back to work, and get something done with my writing. During the past five years, I’ve completed sixteen books. I can’t even afford the ink I need to print out the manuscripts for proofing and editing.
I’m just a little bit bitter. I’m also so tired and so broken, most of the time I don’t know how to make it and survive. After awhile, constant financial humiliation begins taking its toll. I will never be the same person I once was. I don’t know how to laugh or smile. I’ve given up on people. With a few exceptions, I no longer trust anyone. When my father was doing so badly, my mother felt abandoned by our church. I feel the same way. I think that’s what hurts the most.