Madison is under a weather siege. Attacked by winds, snow, ice and lightening. Enough to make you hide under the table.
I spend the earlier hours of the day rocking a car out of drifts (that were the result of yesterday’s opening act to this madness) and looking at bottom-of-the-heap for-sale houses. The ones that have been sitting on the market for twelve months, where the owners still don’t get it. Lower it, you fools! Someone with a small income and fix-it talents would do wonders here. Let them in!
Me - I am not such a person. I can unplug a toilet by using product. And I can fix gutters by climbing on the roof and attaching a dislocated piece with a hairpin. I have done these things, but not a lot beyond.
And so I return to the condo market, reluctantly admitting that I am pedantic and with a small budget. The worst combination.
I walk through units with mouth open and an internal calculator screaming get me out of here, get me out of here.
But I cannot leave.
A shell. I think I will buy a condo shell, a white box, they call it. A place with no interior, nothing but a rectangle with studs, posts and pipes sticking out. The interior will go in when and however issues of affordability will resolve themselves.
In the meantime, I am remembering that it is February, not a decision-making month and still, I am making decisions and moving forward ever so rapidly. It is the only way. Asking me to stand still and wait a spell is like telling a chef to hang up his or her apron and order out pizza from Rocky Rococo.
The storm is in full force. The snow is blinding, but not enough so as to make it impossible for me to see beyond the parking lot below.