Sunday, November 30, 2014

A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME

Got some unexpected inspiration at the gym yesterday evening. A vague notion swirled in my head but it became absolutely clear at some point after the owner switched the music from a heavy metal scream-all-the-lyrics soundtrack to a country song called “Drunk on a Plane”. Actually, I think it was mere seconds after some mill workers had to break a fight between two of the “ladies” who were vying for the same dumbbells.

I have to move.

Yes, I’ve had that notion many times before. Let me clarify. I HAVE TO MOVE!

It was bound to get to this point. Two days ago, I received an invitation to a child’s birthday party. It’s being held at a beer farm. (This is the first time I’ve ever felt compelled to rally for a Chuck E. Cheese’s.)

During my second session with Dr. 7, he mentioned that he has two other gay clients from my area—a two-hour trek to his office. Both feel a similar debilitating isolation, both sense that life is passing them by. I didn’t ask for names and, of course, due to patient privacy, he wouldn’t give them. I have no interest in commiserating with other sad-sacks. I just want to leave it all behind.

And so this weekend I’m grounding myself. No running away to saner settings for surface-level satisfaction. I’ve got to scrub, mop and thoroughly de-clutter. Time for my fourth attempt at selling the house. It has to happen this time. Or, well, I may have to spend thousands of dollars on a basement gym. And then get my helicopter pilot’s license. And a helicopter.

Whatever it takes to get me out of here.

2 comments:

canoetoo said...

A little late in replying to this post. I've been meaning to drop a line about my moving experience.

I've moved three times since I came to Victoria. And I think I've only now gotten it right.

My first condo/apartment was a lovely two bedroom with patio on the ground floor (handy when you have a dog). But it turned out that it was also over the exit from the garage. So all day I would hear the garage door going up and down. It wasn't really very loud but as I relish real quiet it drove me to move less than a year after I'd moved in.

I then found a lovely townhouse in the James Bay neighbourhood of Victoria. The ocean a short walk in three different directions. Alas, I discovered after moving in that there was rental housing where lots of children lived ...just on the other side of the tall hedge separating the properties. It was not something I'd ever thought to check out. The children were fine except for the two years I suffered through the trampoline situated only a few yards from my patio. The landlord seemed pleased when I finally called to complain about the racket day and night as he'd been worried about liability insurance issues. In the end it wasn't so much the children as the adults who would sometimes have drunken conversations on their patios. This could occur at any time of the night. There were a number of other issues. I loved the James Bay area ... just not the immediate area around my townhouse.

So in the back of my head, I guess, I was thinking about moving for a number of years. Then last fall I happened by an open house and found my current home. It faces south with a frontyard patio that's pretty much an extra room all summer. It's a duplex with a 6 inch concrete wall between the units so I never hear my duplex neighbours. The street is quiet (mostly).

It was only after I moved that I realized how weighted down I felt from my noisy neighbourhood and various strata issues. I love my new place and neighbourhood.

Which is all to say that I suspect that a move (whatever it costs) would likely make a big difference in your outlook. As you say "A house is not a home." Especially if you're not happy being there.

Rural Gay said...

Hi CT. So the third time's a charm, eh? Congratulations! I do love the James Bay area of Victoria as well. In fact, I was just looking at a possible weekend stay at the Oswego. It's my favorite hotel in Victoria because of its location.

Neighbors make a huge difference. Twice my ex and I lived in beautiful character homes in Vancouver and both times the neighbors were absolutely hellish. Guess there's a reason the simple phrase "Location, location, location" has so much meaning.