The whole thing is kind of ridiculous (of course), but in a nutshell, it's another unit directly across from the apartment I was renting the past three years. In fact it's more or less a direct mirror image of that place. Which makes me feel like I'm in backwards world all the time, but I'm sure that will pass eventually.
The biggest difference with the new place is that I have a nice little patio where there's enough room that I was able to set up a cool little umbrella table with chairs. Now I just need some friends in order to fill those chairs. When you own a home, people want to be your friend, I hear, so I'm hoping that's true.
To back up, the place actually became available practically a year ago, right after COVID really got going. I initially just wanted to look at it to see how it compared to the place I was in. That set off a whole chain of events that dragged out for months. The important part is, the owner did not want to show the place. I still don't know why. Other than she is a completely batshit person who not long after I moved into the old place left a letter taped to my door threatening to call the cops on me if I ever again made noise in the parking lot at night. True story.
Well when did she FINALLY decide she was ready to allow showings? Right before I was about to go into AVN Awards time, aka the most insanely busy period of my year. But that's when she chose, and outside of the timing, everything about the opportunity seemed too plum to pass up. The only problem was how I would possibly be able to move my entire life smack dab in the middle of nominations—even if it was just across the aforementioned parking lot.
Thank god for my parents. I may be screwed up in any number of ways due to my upbringing, but they sure do come through when it counts. The two of them hopped on a plane—with COVID at its absolute peak, no less—and came out for almost a month to basically do the moving for me, while I watched endless hours of porn. Often with them right in front of me packing up my things and hauling them off. (My favorite part of all of this was when my mom came to me with a stack of porno mags and held them up one by one for me to indicate which I wanted to keep and which she could toss.)
That sounds so incredibly horrible, but I really do not know how I would have pulled this off otherwise. And I am eternally grateful to them for it. What can I say? My folks are really good to me in many, many ways. In fact, they just came out again for my birthday and spent most of the time helping me get the place almost the rest of the way put together.
It's all really nice. I have officially become the master of my domain. And it's comfy. Oh yeah, and the icing on the cake: that crazy wench who taped the letter to my door? Now I own her place.
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