Foreclosure Fatigue in the suburbs

April 2010.

That's it. That's all the patience I have. And all the interest.

3 moves ago I said "THIS move is the Very Last One , really. Next time it all goes into storage and I quit! No more moving and fighting and searching for mediocre or merely tolerable rentals."

Then there was the redneck, possible drug-dealer, drinking by ten a.m. Okay. Maybe if I move closer to civilization (read: Starbucks.)
Then there was the place with the self-professed super-charitable Christian 7thDayAdventist (sorry to reflect badly on anyone else but: he was) who, turns out, has extensive interaction with the local court system and sketchy green-card status.

The toilet didn't work. Well, it did if you kept a bucket by the sink and the top off the tank to fill it yourself like Little House on the Prairie. Even that wasn't the limit. Weirder things went on. Lets call them "cultural differences."

So, it took until this one - crazy, dirty, questionable, dishonest - for me to finally follow through.


But follow through I did and I write to you now from an outdoor cafe in Costa Rica, so near to the beach that I can hear surf rolling in over the reggae.

Wouldn't it be a great Getaway story to say: " I just grabbed my passport and fled to the airport with no thought in the world!" but that's not how it was and it's not how I operate anyway.

I research. I read.
Days online.
Hours at the library. At several libraries.
I inquire and weigh.
I'm one of those people you don't want to BE when you travel but you love to travel WITH, the geek with all the background information - who invaded first, who conquered whom, when, why and what's good to eat.
I know what shots you need and am qualified to actually GIVE them.

And I can cook. Like MacGuyver. Bok Choy and a book of matches and I'm good.

(okay, at least that's how it seems to me because I have nice low standards for eating: bok choy, book of matches, I'm good. Other people may not be as flexible on this point.)

Surprisingly, for such a planner, I'm not sure where I'll end up by the end of the week. Things tend to be in constant flux. But today, right now, I'm at the edge of the Caribbean in a little surf-tourist town called Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica not far from the border with Panama.
And it's Monday I think.....