Hey, it's only 9:30 and the kitchen is almost done; the bathroom too! I'm grooving around here to the music on my player, stopping now for a tea break.
I actually have the keys for the new place -- not a foregone conclusion, since closing is still a distant hope, and I'll be renting the place until it closes.
But here's the amazing news. I was over there yesterday and spoke briefly with the selling realtor. I asked, again, Who else is moving in here? Still all women? How old?
He says a couple has now bought one unit. The only name of a buyer he knew was Nancy R. And I said, Oh my gosh, I think I know her. He confirmed her present address, which confirmed my idea.
She's my age, active, recently divorced. I had introduced myself to her and her daughter in the Fremont Branch Library a year ago because she looked newer in town even than I.
When I got home, I called up Nancy, and, sure enough, she's my new upstairs neighbor. We talked about our experience and our plans for the new place. At the end, I said, "You know, this feels like the grace of God to me."
And she said, "I'm so glad you said that. Yes, it feels like it was meant to be."
The Government War on Old People
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