Our little piece of the world

Today is a historic occasion, bigger than birthdays, bigger than wedding anniversaries. We'll celebrate September 12 every year with ice cream and cake. We have found our own little piece of the world. Just a condo, nothing remarkable, but it will be ours.

As a renter, I have always been at the mercy of one or another landlord. Although I've lived in some great places, I've always had renter's anxiety. I've had houses sold out from under me. I've had rent suddenly increased by vast amounts. I've been required to move so the owners could remodel and double the rent. At least I was self-employed, and not at the mercy of both a landlord and a boss.

Something always seemed to disqualify me from owning a home. I was a single mom without child support, working in publishing, a field that offered job satisfaction instead of financial reward. After living single most of my life, I married a man who also didn't bring in the big bucks, but together we created a business that succeeded better than anything we'd ever done individually. Then we became boat people, owners of not one but two vessels, one a money-sucking project boat. For decades I've been contributing to an IRA, but when it plummeted by 50% in the past year, I put behind me any dreams of having my own place.

Teeny kitchen, but more cabinets than I had before

But my subconscious must not have go of the dream, because when an opportunity to buy a place suddenly appeared, I surprised myself with the intensity I felt about going for it. A friend and his wife were selling their condo, ready to bid adios to the Mexican dream and go back to Colorado. We had visited them a few times and admired their home, the most un-condolike dwelling we've ever seen, in an older, beautifully-landscaped complex with two pools and lots of trees (a big deal in the desert). Recently it became gated (not a big deal, to me anyway). It was originally built as a resort hotel. Their unit had one bedroom, but with two bathrooms. Two patios. A mini-split air-conditioner, gas stove, more storage than we have in our present two-bedroom duplex. Our friends were willing to carry the loan, so we put in a bid and crossed our fingers.

Thanks to Hurricane Jimena, we couldn't reach the broker for three or four days, and when we finally reached her, we were disappointed to hear that a cash bid had trumped ours. Naah, I wasn't disappointed. More like devastated. I had allowed pictures of us living in that place to move into my imagination, before we moved into the place. Bad idea. But my hope meter took a little jump when I remembered there's another unit for sale with identical floor plan just opposite it. We decided we'd have another look at that one.

Unfortunately, Hurricane Jimena got there first.

Front patio overlooks the golf course

When we went to look at it today, we were assailed by the odor of mildew and mold. It had been cleaned, but we could tell how high the water reached by the dampness in the exposed brick walls, four feet up! It had been furnished, but most of the furniture is now due for the dump. I know, it's insane to think of buying a place that floods, when we're currently renting a place that doesn't! But the Capt feels sure he can engineer a solution that will prevent it happening again, so we made a low-ball offer, and a couple of hours later we heard from the agent. For the first time in my life, I'm a homeowner.

The only usable furniture left is a funky swimming-pool-aqua dining table and chairs. Mural is one of three!

So much needs to be done before we move in. For one thing, there's a deadline and a press date to meet. The blinds, ruined in the flood, have to be replaced, and the horrible concrete bed made to disappear. Why do Mexicans build those beds anyway? They're not comfortable, they can't be altered if you want to go bigger or smaller, and you can't store anything under them. My friend Jan tells me she once had to deal with one when she moved to Mexico. "You hire a Mexican with a hammer and he'll make it disappear," she assures me.

I ask you: why would anyone make a bed out of concrete?

Between Jimena, my deadline and the new place, my mind resembles an anthill after it's been stepped in.

Here's the funniest part: I have absolutely no interest in golf. Never played, never wanted to. But my new home overlooks a golf course. My sister and her husband in Oklahoma are golf nuts who play every day. Think maybe they'll come visit me now?