The 5 stages of grief

So it looks like we're sticking around Florida a while longer.....

Denial—in my case, shock coupled with "what do you mean it can't happen? I've been planning everything so well..."

Anger—what's angrier than livid? I wanted to let out a good stress scream on the way home in the car, but my disbelief kept it in. The very idea of spending one more summer in this tropical hellhole, never mind the prospect of more time without a washer/dryer makes me a white-hot angry that renders me speechless (well, in actual speech anyway...apparently it hasn't affected my fingers...)

Bargaining—emailed the other property management company I had my eye on, the one that rents what are probably 900-square-foot houses with no W/D connections in lousy sections of town, to see if there's any chance of bypassing our credit issues with them. As I'm writing it, I know it'd be wiser to stay put, but I have to try...

Depression—the only thing keeping that at bay, besides my usual regimen of happy pills, is the fact that we still have money coming to us from the stock options, so we can get the bills up to date, I can get my custom orthotics, maybe actually start a savings account...

Acceptance—we're already there. We don't want to be, and there's still going to be plenty of changes to be made in that apartment and our lives in order for us to get out from under, but the sad truth is that any move we'd try for at this time would be very hard, and could do even more damage to our credit, if that's possible.

God, I'm sad and angry though. The only things I like about Jacksonville are my bitches and my potential proximity to Hunter. Well, maybe add Cyril to that too, since he's been so happy and healthy of late, and Mom and Dad 'cause they're like, getting old and stuff. And the Jags when they have a good season. But Florida has worn on my senses since we moved down in 1986. Crap, it has been 20 years...back then I had no choice, since I was still in high school (and was so eager to get out of NC, I'd have moved to frickin' Zimbabwe), and my paltry academic successes made it easy to take the lazy road and go to a state college. When I worked for AMC, bouncing around the state, I was always trying to prove myself so they'd give me a spot at one of the Atlanta theaters. Instead they sent me to Fort Myers, where I met Les. Everything happens for a reason.

So Les and I did a little shopping last night, treated ourselves to a nice meal, and I plowed through the K1P1 rib cuff on mr. sock's mate...man, that's a snore! I really wanted to play with both socks, but I wanted to get that ribbing done so that it's not as easy to set it aside. I'm going to pay attention to the SSS (soul-sucking shawl) and my FnF (feather and fan) scarf this week, because they're taking on the personalities of UFOs that won't die and I'd really like to get them finished, so I can try my hand at some new stuff. More cables, that double-knit bag, and on the sewing end, new covers for the old couch pillows and cushions.