It was almost a year ago when I blogged about having an identity crisis because I had whispered the word “rent” into the ears of my youngest, Helena, and miraculously, she suddenly started making noises about moving out and I wasn’t sure I was ready to live by myself, having never done it before. I was all, what if I make a lousy roommate? What if my snoring wakes me up? What if I leave crusty dishes in the sink and I resent it? What if my stairs collapse and I’m trapped in my bedroom away from my bestie, Frigidaire, and no one is there to feed me, and I die and miss my birthday and I never got myself anything? What if, what if, WHAT THE HELL IF??
Helena wound up moving out a couple of months ago to live with her best friend not too far away in an adorable second-story apartment with crooked stairs and questionable electric and she took Ollie with her.
I cried and moped around for a bit and then celebrated by buying a brand new area rug for my front room, after having thrown out the prior four because while Ollie’s bowels prefer the area behind the couch, his bladder prefers the area in front of it and that’s because Ollie is seven pounds of adorable asshole.
I still wasn’t living on my own after Helena left because a few months prior, my brother, Tino, moved back in. It was almost 16 months ago when I wrote on Facebook about Tino turning his life around and returning to Vegas to finish some unfinished Vegas business. He wound up finishing that business within a year and last November found him relocating once again to my tiny spare bedroom “temporarily” while he looked for some permanent digs nearby.
IN THE MEANTIME …
Zoe and Kyle decided to be overachievers and while everybody else spent New Year’s Day having a hangover, they decided to spend it having a baby. After Ella Despina made her appearance, they put their house up for sale in February and sold it in one day, leaving them with 60 days to move. In any other booming real estate market, this would have been no biggie and I’d probably be typing this with one hand and changing EllaBellaBean’s diaper with the other while Kyle and Zoe celebrated re-mortgaging the next thirty years of their lives in the drive-thru of Taco Bell.
Someone might have eaten an uncooked bat.
Zoe, Kyle and EllaBellaBean are moving into Helena’s empty bedroom and when I say Zoe, Kyle and EllaBellaBean, I mean Zoe, Kyle, EllaBellaBean and their worldly possessions including their king-sized bed, EllaBellaBean’s bassinet, and two OH YES YOU HEARD ME RIGHT, I SAID TWO corgis named Cooper and Finn. Their remaining worldly possessions are being placed in offsite storage except for EllaBellaBean’s necessities which compromise approximately 85% of their remaining worldly possessions because “necessity” is a relative term. Currently, I am busy rearranging my linen closet because Finn suffers from anxiety and is deathly afraid of throw pillows.
Tino, who, like Zoe and Kyle, is on indefinite hiatus from buying a house, is spending half his time in his tiny bedroom working, half his time in my basement attempting to achieve feng shui amongst Zoe and Kyle’s spare fridge and bedroom dressers and his own makeshift gym which includes a punching bag, an inversion table and two sets of battle ropes, and half his time at Costco relieving them of their inventory. Currently, I am ignoring the fact that I cannot do math because I am busy trying to cram a frozen pizza in my freezer that is chock full of healthy shit that I don’t eat.
AND WHAT’S MORE…
Tino works from home.
I am working from home.
Zoe is working from home.
EllaBellaBean’s daycare is closed because again, maybe someone ate a bat so, for the time being, EllaBellaBean is that chubby, adorable, drooling co-worker who farts a lot and smells funny.
Did I mention I live in a tiny 1200 square foot house?
I will be surrounded by family and if quarantining has done anything for me (other than saving my life and those of others), it has driven home the importance of friends and family.
My tiny house may be busting at the seams and my brand new area rug may be rolled up and shoved in the hall closet but most of my immediate family will be around me and I won’t have to miss them or wonder if they’re OK or worry that they’re running out of toilet paper because I’ll be rationing the Charmin, 3 squares at a time. I only wish Helena could be here so that I could smother her with worry from a shorter distance but she’s too busy laughing at the irony of it all and besides, she’s not too keen on bunking in the garage.