If everything goes as I’m told it will, I will be homeless by the end of the day.
This is not the first time I have been homeless. I have been homeless several times in my life, all because of a love gone wrong.
The first time I was homeless was because of a “first love”. I was living in Renton, Washington on Mill Avenue in a small apartment building. I thought things were going great. But the house obviously didn’t. I came home one day to a note left on the ironing board: “Get out of here and get out of my life.” Not much room for interpretation there. My house had made up its mind.
So, I left. I packed everything I owned into my 72 Pinto Wagon and off I went to points at the time unknown. My house and I parted ways on a cold April morn in 1984.
You know the story, you make a commitment to your first love and they become your supposedly loving house. Happily ever after, that’s what the fairy tales tell you.
But it wasn’t so in my case. After seven years, my house and I parted ways. It was OK. The house turned out to be pretty frigid compared to other houses I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.
I admit, I was only homeless for a very short time. Thankfully, a friend took me in that very day.
Fast forward a few years. My girlfriend and I are minding our own business, driving down N 145th in Seattle. A woman in an AMC Pacer truly believes her car is going to fly over ours, hitting us while still accelerating. Long story short, my girlfriend breaks her neck and has to move home to her dad’s house to rehabilitate.
My home and I parted ways… I couldn’t take care of it by myself. I was homeless once again. So I ended up shacking up with another room for a month before I found a new love in West Seattle.
I had a few more loves after that one. There was a beautiful one in Bellevue that I loved dearly. But sadly it was not to be. I was young and foolish and a house in the ‘burbs just wasn’t for me at the time. So I moved on.
More years passed. Just as I was about to give up on the thought of any domestic bliss, I found a little beauty that took me to Port Orchard. A real charmer. Smart looking, homey, welcoming. I loved that home and it seemed like I had finally found the house of my dreams.
But my house and I parted ways, and once again I was homeless. For a week, I called my office home. I slept on the floor with a coat as a pillow. I really should have come to my senses and made up with my house.
It was the first house I really wanted to stay in for a lifetime. But I don’t think the house really wanted me, at least that’s what I thought. I didn’t feel the love after a time. It was all work and no play and the house could be so demanding. It wanted a new paint job. It wanted new furniture… Want, want, want, want, want!
I have discovered that I am not a very giving person when it comes to a house. I guess real estate and I just aren’t meant to be together forever. The joys(?) of homeownership are simply out of my grasp. We just don’t seem to have the same wants and needs.
Which leads me to today’s events.
After losing my house in Port Orchard I moved to Florida to start life anew.
Against my better judgement I gave into a house in Melbourne, Florida. By now, a lot of houses had come and gone, so I was very wary of getting into that kind of relationship again. But it seemed like a no-lose proposition. The house was in love with me and it wanted me to have its way with it. So I did. And it was love at first sight. I loved the house, but alas, the love soured and the house didn’t love me back any longer.
The end of our love affair came at the end of 2009. We tried to live in harmony for a time, but it just wasn’t working. So it was time for me to leave. But for some reason, the house wanted to hold on to me, though I no longer wanted anything to do with it. Still, it tried every trick in the book, including unreasonable demands, endless paperwork and every legal trick it could think up.
It seems that it has finally given up. The house has relented. And today, I go to Melbourne to be rid of it once and for all. There will be no tears shed. No last, longing looks. The house had its chance to make me happy. But it failed.
Soon to be homeless again, somewhere on the Treasure Coast of Florida,
Robb