FINAL HOUSE DECISION! ... Well, I thought it was…

Photos from my temporary digs on Callejon de los Reyes, a sweet bungalow in a lovely garden. Molly aka Mole aka Molita, once allowed outside, is happy here. There are lovely twinkly lights on the mountains at night.

LET ME OUT OF HERE!

A much happier Molita Gata

Twinkly Lights from my Window

April 4^th

I did it. Put a deposit on a clean, comfortable, practical apartment instead of artsy funky charming. Urban instead of semi-rural in feeling. Funny reaction I’m having. A heart-sinking taking my medicine feeling. At the same time, my rational self is saying I did the right thing. I won’t have to spend energy on figuring out the water system, paying for the gas and electric. All that is included in the rent and the owner lives next door if I need something.

Sigh. The outside of my home has always been more important to me than the inside. This new place has a pleasant shared patio with fruit tree and plants, but there’s no private space right outside my doorway and it’s on a busy street. Buses. Trucks. No place for a hammock and not peaceful enough anyway. Bus traffic until 9pm. At least it stops at 9pm.

I’ve opted for a clean bright indoors this time. Nice stove and frig, big kitchen sink. Nice dishes and new pots and pans. I’m acting my age. Plus it’s available May 1^st instead of June 1^st and if I want I can even move in sooner. Sigh.

I have a old ingrained habit of booby-trapping myself in little ways. Moving to a place where I have to spend a lot of energy fixing it up before I can just decorate it and live in it. Putting cans of paint on the floor in front of my painting wall so I have to spend energy not knocking them over while I’m doing art. Moving from place to place, too often. All to relieve the anxiety of simply living or doing art.

Moving to this apartment allows me to more easily simply live here in Oaxaca.  AAAAAHHHHHHH!

April 6^th

I can’t do it. My heart won’t let me. The bohemian artist part of me that owns my heart is simply having a temper tantrum. I’ve never been good at making rational decisions that bypass some essential part of who I am, even if that essential part’s wishes may give me more tsouris (Yiddish for trouble, distress, heartburn). And this has usually been a good thing, and worth the tsouris.

April 7^th

I’m going to put a deposit on the funky-charming place in Xochimilco on Monday. These battles between my head and my heart have been expensive lately, when it comes to housing. One part of me makes a commitment to a place and pays for it. The other part has a hissy fit and I change my mind. I’ll probably lose my deposit on the nice, clean, practical place. But better to be happy and poorer.