* One of those days

It was one of those days.  I don't think it was the days' fault.  Nothing out of the ordinary there.  It was me.  I woke up feeling 'off'.  My balance mechanism is out of whack.  I couldn't seem to adjust it.  Felt like I was spinning out of control.  Little, small, teeny things made me edgy.  Went to the bank to get cash to pay bills - movers, architect, etc.  It was a large amount.  Everyone seemed to be talking so loud.  The lady who authorized the amount said it out loud.  When we asked for the amount, it seemed to echo through the old colonial building for everyone to hear.  The woman who counted the money said each number long and loud.  I suspected the woman standing behind us could hear everything.  I asked for an envelope to put the money in.  I expected the teller would place the money in the envelope and hand it to me all in a nice package.  Instead, a plastic bag was shoved under the wicket at me.  Next came the piles of cash.  I stuffed it in, placed it in my shopping bag and exited, stage left.  Pit in my stomach now fully established.

I wandered in centro, trying to center myself. (no pun intended)  Looking for jewelery (costume) to wear here.  I came home.  Counted money.  Felt like the Queen in her counting house.  Made labels for everyone - wrapped money in packages, converted it into US$ equivalents.  Mind boggled.

Emails arrived.  Water damage is still not looked after at my condo in Victoria.  Letter from one of the residents containing phone numbers of insurance people.  Would I call them.  Would I complain.  Would I tell them how frustrated I was.  Would I threaten not to vote for their company at the AGM.

Email from real estate agent arrived.  Because of the huge loss I have taken, I will have to sell the condo to live.  Could I do something about having the repairs hurried along.  Time is flying by and we need to get this 'show on the road'.

Email from my friend who is receiving my mail.  Nothing is being forwarded to my US address.  Could I contact Canada Post and straighten it out.  She opened a couple of my letters so I could pay bills.  Property tax notice has arrived.  Need to pay on line.  Need more information.

Email from Architect arrived.  He wants an advance on the 'hold back' money.  He is begging and sounding very charming.

In the midst of all this I am trying to see what can be done about my budget.  I am making lists of essential things I will need for the house.  My car money is gone.  Can I still afford a car.  NO!  This really angers me.  My furniture money is gone.  Can I still afford furniture?  SOME.  It will take time now.  It will take garage sales.  I will have to save up little by little from my monthly allowance.  My Art Class money is gone.  Can I still manage that?  I'll negotiate this with Nina.  My Spanish Lessons money is gone.  How will I learn Spanish?  Can a squeeze a 2 week course of Warren Hardy out of this mess.  Don't know yet.  Luckily I have the Rosetta Stone (One of the best Spanish classes in a box you can buy) which was given to me by dear friends.  I know how big a blessing this is now.  My studio on the roof money is gone.  Can I still afford a studio - even a shell to work in?  NO.  My emergency medical money is gone.  I don't even want to think about that.

My boxes arrived today.  All my worldly goods.  It seemed to take so much effort to pack them.  Today when they arrived, they looked like absolutely nothing.  One box is missing of course.  It's still in Lardeo.  I will probably get it eventually.

A gentleman who looked after getting my belongings here from Laredo was going to pick me up and take me to the house.  We were to meet the moving men there.  He arrived.  His car had broken down.  We had to walk over to the house.  It was over 90 degrees.  I wanted to crumble.  I didn't.

When I arrived at the house the movers were waiting.  They stacked all the boxes under the kitchen counters.  Everyone suddenly was gone and I was alone.  I was struggling with my camera.  The memory card was locked.  I was getting in a little bit of a 'state' as I wanted to take photos of the doors so I could purchase the correct locks.  There was knocking at the door.  I opened it.  One of the movers stood there asking for "Propina".  I told him I didn't have any.  Why did he need propane anyway?  Did their truck run on propane.  If I did have propane, how would I get it out of my tank into there tank?  Huge mystery in my mind.   I said I was sorry 22 times.  When I came home, I shared the story with Sylvia who nearly fell down laughing!  I was still puzzled.  "Propina", I found out is a TIP.  They wanted money.  I was in such a state, what usually comes naturally to me here, totally slipped my mind.  I closed the door, struggled with my camera.  A head pops up over my 9 foot brick wall.  They are building next door.  He wants water.  I hook up the hose and say, help yourself.  Let me pay for your water to build your house.  I am a good neighbour!  I have tons of money - never an issue with me.  Pit in stomach now fully activated and hurting.  Entire body on edge.  Felt like something may give.

I lock the gate and walk home.  It's still 90 degrees - maybe 100 -- It feels like a hot oven in which to cook scones fast --- 20 minutes at 420 degrees.  I sweat, I walk, I sweat some more.  Home looks good.  More e-mails from architect.  Can he have the advance please?  I ask him a whole bunch of questions.  He answers.  I am now feeling like I may fly apart into a million pieces.  I write one last e-mail.  Sorry - I can no longer deal with this today ... maybe tomorrow.  I turn my mail to the 'off' position.

So, it's been one of those days.  I am still processing all of this.  It's not a pretty sight.  The more I process, the worse I feel.  I know 'this too shall pass'.  Still, my balance button is not working.  Who do you call when your balance button does not work?

The key to keeping your balance is knowing when you have lost it. ~ Anonymous

That might be the 'key'.  How do I get it back?