Doors Closing, Windows Opening

So, life in general can be pretty freakin' weird. You never know what's going to happen from one day to the next. It's been said that whenever God closes a door, he opens a window.

I can testify that this is true.

One just doesn't expect the door to shut because of a wind tunnel created by the window that had suddenly opened.

My devoted Cake Eater readers will know that the Great White Hunter landlord put the Cake Eater pad up on the market in early January. The house sold at the end of last month and we were given thirty-days notice to pack it up and move it out. The husband and I, after a weekend of denial, started looking for a new place to live within our neighborhood. I started mentally plotting our move: what would need to be packed and in what order, etc. As of last Friday we hadn't found a place to move to. We weren't too concerned. After all, we found this place three days before we had to move last time. What can I say? We're picky.

But we've moved a lot in our ten-year marriage, so we know not to get too freaked out and not to give in too early. Something always turns up. If a door has closed, a window opens. If you would have asked me last Friday, I would have told you that a house up the street was the abruptly opened window mentioned above. Today, it's a different window entirely.

It's my own window.

Where I could reach out and touch the three pine trees that reside outside if there wasn't a screen in the way. It's the one that I'm currently seeing my own reflection in because it's dark outside. It's the one that's currently letting in a stream of fresh, early-spring air. And it's the one I'll be looking at and out of for another year.

Yep. That's right kids. We're staying put!

If you want the entire story, read on after the jump.

So, where was I? Ah, last Friday. Still hadn't found a place to live.

The husband has been doing some IT work for the obnoxious Cake Eater neighbor lately, and since the guy's in real estate, he's been "overly concerned" (read looking to make some money) with our situation. He has been for quite some time. Last fall, he bought the house two doors down and wanted us to move into it. It was too pricey for our budget, even though it would have been nice, so we politely refused. This winter, he had rehabbed another house in the neighborhood and was trying to sell it, but was flexible to renting. He actually took the husband to see it, and while the husband thought it was nice, we decided, yet again, it was outside of our budget. Of course, both of these opportunities were in the era before we knew we had to move.

So, on Friday, the husband has his usual meeting with the obnoxious Cake Eater neighbor and yet another opportunity has presented itself. In the form of a house built in 1907, replete with hardwood floors, a massive kitchen, three bedrooms, and a jacuzzi tub. The Cake Eater neighbor takes us to this property, up the street from our house, and waxes rhapsodically about it. And it's gorgeous. My definition of "gorgeous" is probably different from others, because this house definitely needed some work, but it had character and I like character. It also had a freakin' humongous lot, which is a rare thing in this part of town. Usually, the houses are big, but the lots are tiny. Anyway...the Cake Eater neighbor wanted to purchase this house and have us move into it as renters. It was, again, a bit out of our budget, but we could have stretched and made the reach. It was, on the whole, a great opportunity for us. Lots more room, a yard, where we wanted to be, a jacuzzi tub, etc. so we agreed to rent the place and he put an offer in on the house.

On Saturday, we went back to see the house again, and our impressions from our first visit were confirmed. It would have been a great place to live. Particularly since the Cake Eater Neighbor wanted to redo the kitchen entirely---and was willing to put in a gas stove!

There was just one small hitch: the Cake Eater neighbor's wife was not so hot on the idea of taking on more debt. They already co-own seven properties, besides their own house. To put it bluntly, they're in the hole and she wanted him to stop digging. Hence, she ix-ned the whole shebang this morning. The Cake Eater neighbor apologized profusely, but we understood.

So, this is the door that closed.

And then the window opened. One of the interesting things that happened on Friday was that we learned the sale of the Cake Eater Pad had closed. We had a new landlord. Before the last day of the month. Which, according to the Cake Eater Neighbor, real estate savant that he is, meant that the new landlord, if they wanted us out, would have to give us notice again. The Great White Hunter had voided his own eviction order that he'd issued to woo the buyers. The same buyers he was now screwing over because he didn't bother looking at the calendar when his real estate agent scheduled the closing date.

Combine this massive blunder with the fact that our neighbors downstairs told us on Saturday that they'd given notice to the new landlord. They need life to be steady right now. A new landlord with plans of improvement on the brain does not, on the whole, provide stability. They're a pair of doctors with a little boy: the husband is applying for a fellowship in cardiology currently; the wife just took her boards and is going to start her internship. The school they were looking at for their little boy is over in Eden Prairie, so they just decided to find a place over there so life would be settled while they had any say in it.

This morning, the husband set up a time to chat with the new landlord. During this phone call, the husband laid out his position quite succinctly: if you want us out, give us notice, but we're not moving at the end of the month because you, my dear landlord, have just landed yourself in a whole different kettle of fish. The new landlord took it rather well, the husband thought, and they met this evening. I can't give details because I absented myself from the meeting. The husband had his plan of attack all laid out and I didn't want to futz it up by opening my big, digressive mouth. I took a walk instead. When I came home the husband had a large smile on his face and told me the new landlord would be dropping off a lease in the next few days. He said that instead of moving into our apartment, as originally planned, with the neighbors' departure imminent, they had decided to move into the downstairs unit. (It has the lure of hardwood floors, whereas we have carpet) But, most importantly, he said that we could stay in our apartment, but that we had to lay out a couple of new deposits.

But we're staying put. That's the important part. The rent's even staying the same. The only downside is the new dude wants first and last month's, plus a hefty security deposit (which you'll be hearing more about later). That's a bummer, but if it means we don't have to move, I'm good with it.

Now all I have to do is unpack the boxes I packed last Thursday.

Life, like I said, can be pretty weird. But when it's weird in a good way, you just have to lean back, laugh, and appreciate it for what it is. That's what the husband and I have been doing all evening long: emitting laughs at odd intervals. Appreciating life for what it is and what it can be.

How odd is all of this? I don't know, but it seems pretty damn odd to me, given the circumstances. I'm just happy it worked out the way I wanted.

Now if only we could get our original security deposit back from the Great White Hunter. But the moon has a greater chance of being made out of blue cheese than that has of happening. That, I'm quite sure, was spent on keeping the fine art of taxidermy alive quite some time ago.

Posted by Kathy at March 29, 2005 12:33 AM