At long last I've moved back to San Jose, CA where I'd lived for nearly 15 years. I'd made a terrible decision to relocate to the Charleston, SC area, believing that as that part of the country would be more compatible with my ghastly financial situation. Can we say, "Wrong, wrong, seriously wrong"? After compounding the problem by purchasing a house I could ill afford, foreclosure was looming in the background, but fortunately a wonderful buyer bought the little house and saved me from foreclosure and its devastating consequences to one's credit record; I'm working toward rebuilding my credit rating now.
I was lucky enough to have been given what I'd been praying for for many years: Acceptance by a senior/disabled persons' apartment complex, HUD-approved, in San Jose, only a few blocks away from a townhouse I'd mistakenly bought back in 1999, and had to sell in 2001. (See a pattern here? Sigh ...) I set up a moving date for early June, but then had to undergo emergency surgery; I was in the hospital for six or seven days and had to reschedule the move. To avoid spending too much on this move I'd researched moving companies and hired the one whose quote was the lowest. Well, as it's said, you get what you pay for ... This turned out to be the worst moving experience I've ever had, and I've moved across the country and back several times. Suffice it to say that the movers delivered in a chaotic and rushed manner, and furniture was placed in locations in the apartment that were not where they should hsve been placed, and I've had to pay other people to move the furniture where I wanted it. The mover "lost" many boxes, including one in which I'd packed collections of delightful items I'd been saving for decades. Boxes containing expensive cookery items and other culinary stuff were nowhere to be found, a box in which I'd packed pottery I'd made back on the late-1990s was delivered with all of the pottery smashed, and such. Horrifying! I wish never to have to move again.
As it's turned out, although I adore this apartment, I may not be able to stay. There's a mandatory food program that everyone must pay for, adding $224 a month to the total monthly rent. Because I failed to consider this additional monthly charge I'm finding that I cannot afford to remain here unless I can be excluded from that program. My doctor wants me to be released from the plan as well: Because it is a kosher kitchen the chef must substitute soy products for dairy, and I'm sensitive to soy. I'm gluten-intolerant as well, so between thise two issues I find myself suffering serious gastrointestinal problems which keep me in the bathroom every other evening after dinner. I choose carefully what I order, but there is soy or gluten hidden in some recipes that I can't identify. The doctor feels that not only are the GI consequences bad in themselves, but the food is exacerbating my fibromyalgia, causing an increase in the pain and cognitive symptoms of fibromyalgia; I know he's correct about that as the pain has become worse since I've been living here.
I must leave you now, dear friends. This litany of woes and a few stories about the new joys being added in my life shall be recounted in the next post to this blog. Until then, go in peace and prosper!
