uncommons

We finally hit a breaking point Thursday. Combine the problems we’ve had selling our Florida house over the last few months not going anywhere and the fact that our realtor quit thankfully, because it was an awful experience, the debilitating question of where does our little money go (rent + mortgage + living expenses), the cat is sick, the apartment heater is shot, we never seem to have any money did I mention that?, and that we accidentally broke a ninety some-odd year old newspaper firelog roller passed down in my wife’s family while trying to save money from buying a cord of firewood just pushed us over the threshold. We can’t take it anymore.

It’s like we moved here to be with our families and better our work, but everything just seems to keep us from getting ahead. The greed of unscrupulous Florida investors and the housing market crash and credit risk crunch has absolutely crushed our Florida home value to the point we can’t compete with other sales. Area mortgage companies in Florida call our region a “high risk area” and kill any potential sales. Renters low-ball every offer on the house like they were leasing a slum. I feel like we’re in a hamster ball playing on the losing side of a hellish game of Monopoly, just a dice roll away from hitting a hotel-adorned Park Place and painfully paying up.

I listened to Brahms’ Violin Concerto in D Major with Julia Fischer on violin in the car yesterday morning, and if you listen to it you’ll notice how it builds, almost angrily, into a crescendo of frustration and anxiety. The sharp violin cries out for mercy, like an animal stuck in a trap. I couldn’t listen anymore, it was too much — I didn’t want to crash my car.

So here it is, time to mortgage my properties. I’m holding cards and ready to fold. Who wants in, because I’m ready to deal.

At least on the positive side, if the problem is only financial, then there are plenty of other things that could make life a lot worse. It’s sickly comforting to know that at least one industry colleague that I call a friend is in the same boat with me. I’ve personally seen plenty of sicknesses and habits that drag people down into a distant hole. At least with money, said my friend Steven Martine, you can’t take it with you.

I had to vent, back to the art, which is going well, I hope.