Leaving and Returning Home

Dear Diary,

Since I last checked in a lot has happened. First and foremost, we are now living in a hotel downtown for at least the next seven weeks. The whole thing happened so fast. One minute I'm enjoying my new furniture and the next minute we are moving it out. It turns out we have a leak in our wall between the kitchen and the bathroom. It caused the floors near the bathroom to buckle and the door to the bathroom won't shut because it's stuck on the floor. There is hella mold everywhere so we were advised to get out asap.

First stop was a hotel room in Mission Valley. It had a kitchen and everything but in the room, we would all share, there were no dressers and no drawers of any kind. That was going to be a problem with the three of us sharing it. We were only guaranteed three nights at first. Thank the Lord above that I have Renter's Insurance. Get it. Fast. After some back and forth between the management company and insurance, we ended up in a new hotel downtown.

Holy schnickies (is that how you spell it?) This place is FIRE (as my daughter puts it.) Top floor, kitchen TWO bedrooms and TWO bathrooms, a desk and a little dining area. I feel like it's too good to be true like the ball is going to drop here soon. When I checked in the guy says "Oh, it looks like we have you for a while...68 nights." Dang. As Evan said to me, we will make the most of it and enjoy every minute of the downtown experience. Here was my view last night.

I feel like I am dreaming. I've been asking Antonio to come and join us, like, now. He says he doesn't think it's necessary because the downstairs toilet and shower work (the kitchen is dead) and construction hasn't started. I reminded him that he is living with the possibility of black mold. He doesn't care. Stubborn. I'm mad at him anyway. He was supposed to come with me and Evan to Glendale to see where I grew up, but at the last minute, he said he didn't want to go. He wanted to stay home and get stuff done. I told him how much this meant to me. He didn't care. And, what did he end up doing all day yesterday? Sleeping. Ugh. I may forgive him for this but I won't forget. It has damaged a little part of my heart.

His loss. We had a glorious time. It was so special showing Evan where I played and where I had my first kiss and where we spend our summer nights and Christmas mornings. The people who have lived there for over a dozen years have put a tremendous amount of work into it, but it still has the essence of the house I knew so well. I got choked up twice...once while showing the new owner where we had Thanksgiving dinner and once when I showed Evan where my dad died.

Here are some old and new photos so you can see how cool it is now. Here is the front view from a long time ago.

Here is what they did with it.

Here's an old shot of our grand living room with our 9-foot tree.

This is now...

Here are some of the patio, old and new.

This is the front yard where we played all summer long. My dad worked so hard to keep this lawn green...so hard.

The rose garden is where I buried all those pets I had in the freezer.

This is where I saw a ghost. A little woman hovering in that hallway. The original owner. Clyve and Flossie. How bout those names! They were unassuming poltergeists for a while.

I took so many pictures and videos. Here's a gem that'll probably end up framed.


It was such a good day. After we toured the house, we went to lunch, and then Ev and I ventured into West Hollywood.

This was closed yesterday. Did it close for good after all that fanfare and boujee decor?

And, Elvis took a dump on the sidewalk of Santa Monica Boulevard. I had no bag. I used the beautiful brochure from the house to scoop it up.

I am exhausted.

See you next week, Diary.

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