Adaptation

Adapt:  To change (oneself) so that one's behavior, attitudes, etc. will conform to new or changed circumstances.


More problems of prosperity . . .


Sponsor materializing out of the haze and fog. . . "Again with the problems of prosperity?  Weren't you going to come up with a list of your other kinds of problems?  Like 5 years ago?"  This is one of the main reasons why I don't call him as often as I should.  He can be a real dick when he starts to point out the inconsistencies in my story telling.  (Ed. note: "inconsistencies in my story telling" =  lying).


SuperK and I have been looking for a place to settle down in a more permanent fashion (alcoholic permanence = anything over 98 minutes) in The New City.  The Big Move was a little sudden and we didn't know the city very well so we plopped down as best we could, in the rain and gloom and dark of a New City winter night.  And we're grateful-ish; we found a nice place to rent in a nice neighborhood.  Because it's too big and too expensive we've spent some time trying to find something more permanent.  Not an obsessive, got-to-get-this-done, find something absolutely, completely, positively perfect search, but a search nonetheless.


Every few weeks we would look at a home or two.  We didn't know if we would continue to rent or buy something but we knew we wanted to settle down in a place for a while.  Moving is for the birds or for the young.  We usually walked out discouraged; things were too pricey or we didn't like the space or the neighborhood.  It was hard on the psyche, to get your hopes up and then have them dashed on the rocks.  We did find places that we could make work and we tried to ratchet down our expectations.  We could "see" ourselves living here or there.


Those damned expectations.  The bane of acceptance.


We got a call from our real estate lady after we decided to throw in the towel on the buying option. One more place, recently discounted, in an area of town we fancied.  We walked in and knew it was right.  Being cautious, we wanted to sleep on it, aware that the discounting might make the place attractive to other buyers and cost us are chance.  But we are plodding, German peasants, after all.   We don't leap at very many things anymore.  There have been too many leaps into brick walls or over the edges of steep cliffs, towering above jagged rocks being lashed with freezing waves.


"So, I guess we need to put together an offer on this place?" I said the next morning, walking down the stairs to where SuperK was working on her computer.


"Pfffff!?!" she said, spitting a mouthful of coffee onto the wall.


Didn't see that coming.  We offered to buy the condo; the offer was accepted; whole thing took about 36 hours.


The whole point of the story is that I need to keep focusing on what's in front of me.  I can't get too high or too low -- steady as we go, Mr. Bosun.  I need to move forward and adapt, adapt, adapt.  I can't say: "Well, this is how it MUST be."


The condo is one bedroom.  That is a few bedrooms less than we have ever had.

"Someone's going to die after we move," SuperK said, as I walked out of my little office, done bellowing into my cell phone to a friend.
"Yeah, you're probably right," I replied, eyeing her less than organized living room.


You know, it'll be fine.  We're happy and grateful. I wasn't buying anything when I was drinking