Unless you are a college student who has come to discover my blog for the first time, Thirsty Thursday is likely a thing of the past. I welcome you to my Quest and to enjoy the original meaning and intent.
For everyone else …. you can perhaps imagine my anticipation for the day of the week that promises to alert me, for the very first time, about the properties that are making their debut appearance. Ah Thursday, never before was it packed with so much promise. I am trying to remember a time when I had a first date on a Thursday. While those are mostly and sadly filled with much trepidation now-a-days – for all the stories you will have to consider telling, and those that you will intentionally hold back, dating at my age brings a lot of baggage. Alas, when I was young it was preceded by the nervous flutter of my stomach – that telltale sign that you could imagine something good was to come, that shiny thing of possibility and optimism which pushes the doubt and blows that dark cloud on down the road, least it rain on your happy date parade. That’s right – Thursday feels just like that when you are homeless and the prospect of love….I mean a home that I could love, feels once again within my grasp.
Perhaps I AM grasping, but one must do that in these dire circumstances. Here are a host of idiomatic phrases that don’t bolster my spirits a bit:
- Try to keep a stiff upper lip
- Look on the bright side
- Blessing in disguise
- Every cloud has a silver lining
- Keep your chin up
Here is a poem that I return to again and again because it is such a naked admission…and acceptance of the struggle, it makes me not feel alone in it at all.
THE GUEST HOUSE – Mewlana Jalauddin
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be cleaning you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them all at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
It’s beautiful no? It lays bare the weakness and gives strength to search another day. And search I will with an optimism and certainty that defies this impossible cash laden marketplace.
Well didn’t I just open that email this morning and suffer from a Match.com flashback. Where were all my perfect matches? One mysteriously was removed from the market like the hot guy they advertise who is either a model or was snagged by a similarly stunning gal six years ago, and only minutes after signing on. Why then is he still featured you ask? I think you know the answer. I don’t need to say it aloud. Needless to say – the homes they selected as a “match” for my criteria were sorely lacking, and that’s before having met them in person. I’m beginning to regret my decision to not drop my financing contingency on Waltham #2. I think we would have been a handsome couple. If only I had the courage to go through with it. Now someone else will be calling it their home. Will they love it like I would or will they take it for granted. I understand from others that being taken for granted results in a lot of break ups. Perhaps their terrible neglect of this most deserving property will result in it being right back on the market in not too long a time. Ah timing – isn’t it a sun of a gun? If only I’d said the words when I had the chance. The hell with it: DROP THE CONTINGENCY – I’m throwing caution to the wind. I won’t live my life wondering…..
Dear reader – what would you have done?