Up Is The Only Option

I'll admit, it's been over 30 years since I've searched for a rental apartment. I should have guessed the old rules went out the window years ago. Now, in order to qualify for a place, you have to have 3x the income as what your rent payment would be. What planet are these folks living on?

I've had to do some fancy footwork

and be rejected already twice in order to put my house in order. It puzzles me that you can have hundreds of thousands in the bank (not that I do) but if you don't fit the formula for debt to income ratio, you can't play. It's been an eye-opening experience.

I'm headed back to NC next week from my base in VA, where I'll try once again to find an apartment that feels like a home and will not mind my little dog.

It's kind of like writing a synopsis before you write a story. You can have the best plot line figured out in your head, put it down on paper and it all makes sense, but when you actually start writing the story, things happen to twist your plot line around. You're left dangling until you can figure it out. Which is what I'm trying to do right now. My only option is to go up from here.

Plot Twists

Lacey London, best selling British author, recently posted this quote on her Twitter page. I think it describes my life perfectly.

So, I'm moving on. The actual move part of the equation didn't go exactly to plan, but Mary and I made it through the snow and right now are scouting out homes in North Carolina. Instead of dwelling on the negative aspects of upending my life, I'm calling the experience "research" and I'm sure bits and pieces of it will show up in my writing from time to time. 

On to my next adventure!

One Last Kick In The Teeth

As a native Ohioan, I thought I knew everything about snow when I was growing up. But I was away from Lake Erie when I lived here in my youth and had not experienced lake-effect snows. Here's Wikipedia's explanation of the phenomenon: Lake-effect snow is produced during cooler atmospheric conditions when a cold air mass moves across long expanses of warmer lake water, warming the lower layer of air which picks up water vapor from the lake, rises up through the colder air above, freezes and is deposited on the leeward (downwind) shores.

To say my move didn't go according to plan would be an understatement. My movers decided to delay my departure by a day, and then waited until the snow really began to come down to start packing. I had a premonition about this and booked a room at a nearby hotel for the night, but still it was a white-knuckle 4-wheel drive for ten miles.

So yesterday, I decided to take off in the morning, heading out of Ohio and barreling southeast as fast as my car could take me. But Ohio wasn't done with me yet. A band of lake-effect snow hit hard and fast on the Ohio turnpike, cutting visibility down to zero for what seemed like miles. One last kick in the teeth, slap in the face, whatever euphemism you prefer.

After way too many hours in the car, and with Mary faking sleep so she wouldn't have to get out and pee in 16 degree weather with howling winds and snow pelting her, we arrived at my friend's house in Virginia. The first leg of the trip is complete. Where the adventure will take us next is still up in the air. But the migration has begun.

Down To The Wire

How appropriate that my final full week in Ohio paraded temperatures in the single digits. As if I needed a reminder of why I'm moving. Of course, North Carolina got pelted by snow this past week, too, so it's slowed down my search for a new home.

For the moment, and probably for the next few weeks, I'll be a homeless person. Just me and Mary, hanging out in our car and on the streets. No, not really. But things haven't gone exactly as planned. My dad had a saying when faced with adversity. "Everything happens for a reason." I hear his voice every time my plans don't work out and I start to panic at my situation. Everything will work out, and I'll have a wonderful story to write when the time is right.


Which leads me to today's blog topic: Mail Order Brides. Can you imagine the strength of character each of these ladies had in order to even contemplate moving to a strange land, to marry a strange man, and live the remainder of her days carving out a life without the support system of a family and friends? How bad must their circumstances have been to even think becoming a mail order bride would be better? No wonder it's such a hot trope for romance writers.

I feel absolutely spoiled by my change of venue. I can research the part of the country where I've decided to head, visit several times beforehand and take the pulse of the town, even locate new quarters and begin to put down roots. All without the anxiety of having to marry a man I've never met.

Not that meeting a new man is off the table. I am a romance author after all.