February 14, 2005
Ooh boy, high stress day. JAndrea got a call from her landlady, and has called her back, but they are playing phone tag. It is possible that the landlady is suspicious that I’m subletting, which I’m not, technically, but landlords are often understandably worried that tenants in rent-stabilized apartments are making fortunes behind their backs.
So I called to see how soon my apartment will be ready, and at, best, it will be so at the end of the week. However they will let me stay in one of their vacant apartments nearby for those few days. As this will mean sleeping on the floor and living out of a suitcase, I may just rent a hotel room, instead. But this means would mean burning through some dough meant to stretch.
This is one of those opportunities to surrender to the realities of the universe and allow solutions to present themselves. That positive thinking belies considerable anziety, but it also combats it.
On an up note, I did get a call from the gentlemen to whom I gave my phone number at the Valentine’s Day Dance. We both have bears of a week to contend with, so who knows when or if we can get to know each other. This is just fine, after all, I respect the Program’s suggestion, borne of millions of hours of sober experience, that it is best to stay out of romantic entaglements in the first year of sobriety. The nice thing is that he acknowledged that my willingness to say hi was brave and refreshing, and he appreciated it. He also has a sobriety well into the double digits, and if I were him, I certainly would be very cautious—to put it mildly—about developing anything but a friendship with a relative babe in the woods who is, to boot, hardly settled in anything resembling a life logistically suited to dating.
All will come when it is supposed to come. Upwards and onwards, and Happy Valentine’s Day to all.
MCO 2005
