Sorry for the whiplash effect, dear Reader, but after my last post about my current broken ankle situation, I am going to pick up my story back in 2015 after a whole lot of difficult, sad conversations and events happened. These conversations and events led to Butch and I separating. Big life changes started with the question: who was going to leave the house and where would he or she go? We were fortunate that our oldest son, Trey, had a duplex in San Antonio. One side was vacant because he used it when he came to town. It was newly renovated and fully furnished. He was amenable to one of us living there for the short term. I thought Butch and I would just draw straws to determine who would move out. But Butch had a different idea; he simply volunteered to move.

After I had been living by myself at Wilderness Hill (our house was located on Wilderness Hill Road) for about two months, Butch said he wanted to switch living arrangements. I was happy to give up the house for several reasons. One, it was too much to keep up on my own. I had a maid to clean the inside but the outside had a lawn that needed to be mowed and leaves to be raked and all of those outside sorts of chores. Then there were inside chores like changing air conditioner filters. Butch had always kept track of and did these types of things. They were not even on my radar. Secondly, everything in the house reminded me of a life that had ceased to be happy and fulfilling which was what I wanted to separate from. So we switched. We chose a day, packed up our things and moved, a two-ships-passing-in-the-night sort of thing.

That was in July of 2015. In August, I filed for divorce. Trey planned to be back in San Antonio in October or November to avoid winter in west Texas. So it was time to figure out where I was going to live. The house was not an option for all the reasons I mentioned above and also we had already agreed that Butch would get that in our settlement. Now I faced a decision. I had gone from my parents’ house to married life with Butch when we were 17. Now I was 63 years old and I had never lived on my own much less made a decision on my own about where to live .

So, I had a conversation with my self.

“Self,” I said, “you never wanted to live in San Antonio as an adult, in the same city where your parents lived. But what did you do? You have lived in San Antonio your whole life. So, where do you want to live?”

Now, my only grandchild, Emy, lived in Austin. She was one year old and went to day care four days a week. Her other grandmother and I switched off Fridays to spend the day with her. As you can imagine, dear Reader, I spent a lot of time in Austin. It was important to me to spend as much time with her as I could. So logically–I’m not usually so logical–it made sense to move to Austin.

“It does make sense, doesn’t it, self?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” my self said. “It makes perfect sense.”

“I’m so glad you agree with me. Let’s do it!”

Now the question was settled about which city but questions still loomed: where in Austin and how do I figure that out? How should I go about finding a place, not a permanent place but a test place to see if Austin was really where I want to be? And definitely not a permanent place, not a place that I would buy or live in for the rest of my life. Yikes! That was way to scary to think about or even imagine. I was really afraid. So I started talking to my kids and friends about how to go about this move. And the idea came up about sub-leasing so I wouldn’t have to sign a long lease. I could just finish out someone else’s long lease. If I didn’t like where I was, it would be easy to change. So that’s the course I decided to take.

I started by searching Craigs List for sub-leases. And there were a lot of them. All kinds from just a room–not gonna work–to a whole house–again, nope. But there were lots of apartments in between. I picked four in the area of town I wanted to be in–close to Emy, of course–called and made two appointments. My self and I had conferred and agreed that this was a reconnaissance mission just to see what was out there. We agree on so many things, it’s uncanny.

The first apartment complex was difficult to turn into from a very busy street. People turned at the corner and went through a gas station to access the entrance gate. The apartment itself was nice, very new. However, I would have to buy my own refrigerator and the place seemed big, too big for just little ol’ me. It just did not seem like a good fit. The second place was in a complex that was easy to access, a little one-bedroom, with all its own appliances. And the lease had four months on it. Although I did not confer with my self, reconnoitering went out the window. The mission had changed. I took it. I could take possession on August 15. I was both ecstatic and scared. But I had a place to go.

Oh, yeah, there was one little timing thing: I was scheduled to go to Australia to visit my sister in September. I was flying out of San Antonio. I’d be away about 3 weeks. Crazy.

I didn’t let that deter me. I just got to work. I figured I didn’t have to completely move until I got back from my trip. So I took possession on August 15. Then the next morning, I bought a bed and a TV. The cable guy was coming in the afternoon and the bed was going to be delivered at 10 pm–honest, that was the delivery time set by the store. I set up the TV all by myself. Just purchasing the thing was a major accomplishment for me because, again, I had never bought my own TV before. But I had shopped with Butch several times so I sort of knew what to look for. I still have that TV but it needs to be replaced. It’s a smart tv but I don’t think it went to college.

Anyway, I had it all ready to go by the time the cable guy got there. Very proud of myself for that. Once the bed was delivered, I got in my car and drove back to San Antonio to get ready to go to Australia. Not sure why I didn’t spend the night in my new digs. Again, crazy.

When I returned from my trip I began moving in earnest. My apartment was not big, about 900 square feet. The downside was the 19 steps from the parking lot to the second floor where my place was. I didn’t have much stuff and very little furniture. I was able to move it all with many loads in my Mountaineer. Since I was still going back and forth to San Antonio for various reasons and staying in Trey’s duplex, I didn’t have to make special trips.

Finally, in early October I was all moved in, not unpacked, but all the furniture and boxes were there. About that time I found a letter from the apartment management taped to my front door. It was a reminder letter that my lease would be up in December. It explained what my rent would be if I re-upped right away, what it would be if I re-upped later and what the rate would be if I wanted to go on a month to month basis–yikes! it was high. Oh, yes, and by the way, the letter explained, if you are planning to move out your lease requires 90 day notice. I was reading this letter on the day notice was due! I hadn’t even unpacked all my boxes. And anyway this was supposed to be my let’s-see-how-this-works experimental place. I couldn’t move. Where would I go? And I hadn’t lived there long enough to know if I liked either Austin or the apartment. (What am I saying? Of course I liked Austin; Emy lived there.) This time there was no discussion with my self. I just told her, “This is where you’re going to live at least for another year. I hope you like it. Now let’s get this rate locked in and finish unpacking.” And that was that. Again, my self was very agreeable. She was tired of carrying boxes up those 19 steps.

As it turned out I enjoyed both Austin and my little apartment. Having my own place was scary at first; there were so many things I didn’t know about and things I didn’t know how to do. But I learned. Well, first, I usually panicked and frequently cried. After that, I figured it out and learned and gained confidence. Little by little.

So Woodpile Kitty has changed to Woodpile Kitty ATX. That’s Austin, Texas. My new home.

Thanks for coming along on the journey,

Woodpile Kitty ATX