…… is how I feel at the moment.
I’m still in my old apartment, slowly getting things ready to move in a couple of weeks.
I took down all of my artwork and pictures so that the building manager could inspect the apartment (a pre-move out inspection, they’ll do another once everything is gone to determine if I get back my security deposit).

It doesn’t feel like home now.
And the new place certainly doesn’t feel like home.
Yet.

The seller had the apartment beautifully staged.
Beautifully …… and sneakily.
When we did the walk-through just before closing I was shocked to see how much needed to be done.
Including fixing a 2 foot hole that had been cleverly hidden with a very large painting.

That was quite an unpleasant surprise.
A lot of wall damage had been cleverly hidden.
But, as the seller’s attorney told me, “When you buy a used home you buy it “as is”. It appears that “in good faith” doesn’t apply here.

So now I get to hire a contractor to come in and fix not only this but the rest of the walls, some plumbing fixtures and the bathrooms.
It’s only money.
Ugh.

Wednesday morning my building’s management (current building) told me that the moving company that I have contracted (and paid a deposit) is no longer allowed to move people out or into this building. Of course, they didn’t have this company listed along with the other three they have banned on the moving out instructions that they sent.
So now I get to try to get my deposit back, or fight the building.
Double ugh.

For those who have known me (or followed me) for more than a decade now (!) …… the inside of my cheek is starting to look/feel like hamburger. For the rest of you, evidently I handle stress by unknowingly chewing the hell out of my cheek. I never realize that I’m doing it, until the pain begins.
I haven’t dealt with this for many years now and the memories that come flooding back because of it are not welcome.
Triple ugh.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time at the “new” apartment this week.
I’ve taken 2 suitcase loads of framed pictures over there, with only one piece of glass breaking (and slicing my finger when I reached into the suitcase to remove it. Not fun when you’re in an empty apartment with no first aid, cotton or anything.)
I figure that if I have to go over there for whatever reason I might as well take something with me.
One less load, right?
A drop in the bucket.

The more I’m there the better I feel about living there, even with the work that has to be done. It fits me.
Of course, I don’t think it will fit all of my stuff but that’s another problem for another day.
My mom should’ve named me Scarlett.

This afternoon I went over to meet with a contractor so that he could bid on the job.
He didn’t show.
That makes the decision a bit easier.
Quadruple ugh.

But afterwards I walked around a bit and then went to meet up with a group of ladies to explore the JP Morgan Library, which isn’t far from the new place.
This is my new view when I step out of the building:

Not too shabby.

I learned that my new neighborhood is filled with modern furniture stores. I passed one, did a double take, and then had to take a picture.

Does that look like a spot in a forest to you? Or just a sofa and a few ottomans?
I really have no words.
Except these: Who buys this stuff?!!

Once I got to the Morgan Library I completely forgot about the ugly forest furniture.

Yeah, a pretty cool place.
And it’s in my neighborhood!
And …… Friday nights are free!!

I still have mixed emotions about moving (most likely one reason, out of many, for the cheek chewing), but I’m starting to feel more positive.

Now if I can just find a moving company that doesn’t charge an arm and a leg at this late date.

Never.
A.
Dull.
Moment.

I’ll leave you with my last Christmas tree picture here.
Cheers and Happy New Year to each of you!