C.'s first reaction to being laid off was a mix of emotions: feeling free from having to work for a company that treats its employees so badly (Stalinist tactics keep everyone afraid of pointing out bad management practices), scared about the future, nervous about telling the children and his parents, but mostly numb. C.'s work would have to be outsourced at a cost of at least $650 per hour, given his level of expertise. Moreover, these service providers would require more hours to do the same work. The Company's top management apparently had not considered this in their lust for cost cutting but that is for them to explain to their stockholders.
The first thing we did was get on the phone with our financial adviser who reassured us that we had plenty of savings as long as we could lower our monthly cash outlay. Easier said than done until the children graduated college and started supporting themselves. He encouraged us not to sell our home because we had the financing structured in a way that our housing costs were extremely low especially considering the quality of our living situation. C. and I decided to take our time to let the reality of our situation sink in before making any major changes.
As the weeks turned into months and we approached the holidays, we began thinking about how we wanted to live and concluded that Florida was not home given that the children live out of state and that we had not found many kindred spirits with whom we could break bread. We bought a book entitled "Where to Retire" and began thinking seriously about a new location. Given how the internet has made it possible to work from anywhere, we decided to focus on the Atlanta/Athens, Georgia region because we both have family and friends up there.
In October, we met with a realtor who gave us a to-do list to get the house ready for selling and decided that we would list it in January, allowing us to give the girls one last Christmas in their Florida home. I had already been quite busy in the yard because 2013/2014 was going to be my year for gardening. I was going to put in a vegetable bed and upgrade the foundation plantings as well as create some new garden beds with succulents and agaves. I purchased two composting bins and began keeping a container in the kitchen for coffee grounds, vegetable waste, and eggshells. It had taken me almost ten years to rediscover my gardening mojo and my imagination was on fire. As the yard began taking shape, I remembered how we had finished remodeling, decorating, and landscaping our two previous houses only to turn around and sell them.
We enjoyed a lovely Christmas and New Year's with the children and did a major purge of unwanted, unused, and unnecessary items. It was painful at times, but mostly it felt liberating. One week after the children had returned to their respective schools, the "for sale" sign went up and within three days we had a contract and a second offer which we decided not to pursue since we were in final negotiations with the first buyers. As shocking as the job loss was, the quick sale and accelerated move-out schedule were worse. Suddenly, we faced the prospect of being homeless until we found a new place to live. We were simultaneously euphoric at having sold the home so quickly and panicked at how to keep it together with two big dogs while house and job hunting.
After we had a fully executed contract, I began packing for the move with the assumption that we would temporarily store most of our possessions until we found a new home. I bought boxes, bubble wrap, huge rolls of packing tape and a dispenser, and turned the guest room into my workroom. I started with the two sets of china C.'s parents had gifted to our daughters. Then I wrapped and boxed photo albums as well as glasses and serving pieces that we only used at holiday times. I had accumulated an impressive stack of boxes when my husband came in the room with a look on his face that suggested someone had died. "Who died?" I asked, with a pit in my stomach. "Our sales contract. The buyers figured out they can't afford it after tying the property up for nine days and costing us that other buyer." Because I was expecting a funeral, the loss of the sale was not too upsetting. "Shit," I said. "Shit."
Putting the house back on the market meant moving all of those heavy boxes into the guest closet and returning the house to its show-ready state. And then, the winter of 2014 shut down the airports which send the sun-seekers to Florida. Until some lucky person buys this beautiful home on 3-plus acres of tranquil Florida countryside, my full time job is housecleaning; which is OK except, 2013/2014 was also supposed to be my year for writing. I recite the Serenity Prayer several times every day and ride my horse as often as possible.
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