Contagious Discontentment

Today was a scary roller coaster of a day. What started out with me promising myself I would have an open mind and a good attitude, came full circle back to "Not a chance in this lifetime."

Marc and I have decided to look for a house to pur...to pur....to purchase. There. I said it (wrote it) in black and white. We are thinking about considering the possibility of purchasing a house on the island. Here. In Florida. On the opposite coast I desire to live on. I went out with a realtor today, and it is really interesting to think about the people I encountered along the way in the span of a few hours, and how they influenced my emotions.

The morning began with a women's group and me "haphazardly" paired up with a woman with whom I have never had a conversation before. I poured my heart out (and shamelessly cried to this perfect stranger) about how sad and lonely my life feels since it has been "off track" and bizarre post Exodus out of The Golden State. I blubbered on and on about how we have just returned from a fabulous trip to Peach Tree City to see my old friend and ex-roommate. Roberta, too, was very disgruntled to have to leave California for her husband's job seven years ago. Upon their departure at that time, I remember thinking, "Wow, poor little soul. How dreadfully awful to have to move out of Paradise....". Little did I know how the chips were going to fall and that I would be in the same predicament only a handful of years behind her. I digress.

I shared with Emily, my partner, that our trip to Peach Tree City was amazing. Halloween was excessively fun with a surplus of kids crammed onto golf carts so full, they were dropping off in the streets as if they were turnips falling off of truck in transport. The weather was mild and the houses were decorated to the hilt, to my delight. We had a week of old friends and new ones, we rode bikes and explored, we tooled around on the golf cart and dined in civilization.

The only minor setback really, was my daughter's run-in with a scorpion. Apparently we missed the memo that states these disgusting arachnids are in abundance, and one would be wise to shake out her shoes before stuffing her foot into them, especially without socks. No matter. A quick (and expensive) trip to the emergency room imparted the knowledge that scorpions this side of the Mississippi are not poisonous, unless one happens to be allergic. Experience a scorpion in Arizona, California, or Texas and you may not be as fortunate. We'll chalk that up to one advantage this coast has over the other: scorpion stings far less apt to cause bodily harm or prove fatal. Again, I digress...

I continued my story to Emily about how getting back to The Sticks and reality really stinks. We came home to bugs in the pantry, an ant farm in the kitchen (I really need to break down and allow Kelly the Bug Man to treat the inside of the house), a $480 electric bill (and that is without a week of AC, a letter informing me of an accumulation of monthly maintenance charges on a savings account I was not aware was in existence, a dead goldfish, a mountain of mail to sift and sort through, and zero Internet access. The schedule resumes and school is in front of us again.

Emily was very kind and encouraging. She had some uplifting words of wisdom and actually made me feel better about my current life chapter. She mostly reinforced that what we are doing here in not in vain, and that if the kids are healthy, happy, and thriving, what else really matters? Does that mean I am to sacrifice my happiness indefinitely? I am not sure, but for now, I guess at the very least, I am to try to continue my journey with seeking gratitude and worry less about the issues that plague my consciousness daily. I left the group determined to keep an open mind about the properties we were off to look at.

I was not impressed. I can't help it. The truth is, I cannot picture myself living for an unspecified amount of time in anything the realtor showed us today. Can't do it. Can't stomach it. Can't imagine it. Don't want to even try.

How did we even reach house hunting status? I am not really sure. I think it all came to a climax when we had to deal with our ridiculous landlords one too many times, and we felt we should at least consider our other options. Certainly we could pay less on a mortgage than we do in rent every month, but that would be the ultimate betrayal to the Land that I love. How can I possible go against every grain in my body and commit to purchasing land here when everything in me wants to get on a plane and fly away and never come back?

After feeling positive and hopeful for the future upon pouring out my guts to Emily this morning, I went on to meet a man working in the bank (who helped me with said monthly maintenance fees) who commiserated with me about the "lameness" of the town we share in common. Ethan is a transplant, too, as it turns out, and though we started as strangers sitting opposite from each other, only an oak desk apart discussing Custodial Accounts, we became fast friends and pledged our loyalty to each other to get out of Dodge, so help us hurricanes. We even shook on it.

Fast forward then to swim team this afternoon, and another conversation with the kids' swim coach brought more clarity on the subject. Scott, too, is dismayed with the older-than-dirt country club population here and wants to start over somewhere else. Disappointed with the lack of team growth in the last five years, he and his partner would like to make a fast exit to Anywhere But Here. We share the same thing in common, and it is called Discontent. I wonder if it is contagious? Does this town just breed it? Does it grow like cells in a Petri dish more rapidly than bacteria itself?

So, this all leads me back to square one and that is this: I really cannot bring myself to seriously considering home ownership here. Yes, the kids are desperate for a dog, and true, we despise our landlords, and of course, ultimately we could save money and build some equity in a house, but I fear the risk far outweighs any potential benefit. So, I suppose I continue to live here with one foot in and one foot out, the foot out fidgety and forlorn, wild and wanting to run away.

I hate to think I am spreading the Discontent further around me. I wish I could say the buck stops here, but sadly, the longer we live here, the more apparent it becomes to me that we are just a bunch of broken people, living gypsy lives, waiting for the next best thing that is not just going to happen along one of these days. What are we waiting for? We are no better than the old people who retire here and wait to die.

I want to live.