My wife Rosemarie has developed a heretofore dormant desire to move. I am not sure if she is just in want of a little change like moving the furniture around, or if she is truly in dire need to reestablish our entire environment. HGTV is not helping. They are currently running two contests that Rosemarie is entering as often as possible. One is for some fancy foo foo two-thousand square feet located thirty-some stories up in a downtown Atlanta condo. Then, there is one of those cable TV shows whereby a couple is selected and they go house-hunting with a realtor. The latter will attempt to convince them that their list of must-haves is a joke and they better choose which of three houses they’ve toured into which they want to sink a mortgage by the end of the last commercial break. Oh, did I mention that this particular real estate opportunity is in Hawaii? Yeah, the very same place where Rosemarie has been wanting to live since she conceived the idea while we danced at her prom back in the 1960s. Yes, that’s true, I was her prom date that long ago. You’d think I would have moved us to Hawaii by now. I am such a jerk.
Okay, it goes without saying that we have never won anything much more than a free lottery ticket. Oh wait, I have to correct that. I once won an expensive fire-engine-red leather golf club bag with Coca-Cola’s logo on the side. Everyone at the business luncheon that day wanted to win it and I am surprised a fight didn’t break out when I held up the winning ticket. I didn’t dare mention to anyone that I thought the golf bag was God-awful gaudy not to mention I have never played golf and didn’t intend to either. The bag sat in my closet for a few years and then I finally donated it as an auction item for a charity event. Cancel the jerk reference above.
Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, like I said, we have never won anything much. So I figure one of these prizes will finally be it—either the dazzling condo in Atlanta or the tropical paradise in Hawaii. I don’t know where in Hawaii the prize is for, but if we have a choice I will select Maui. That’s because a high school classmate of mine lives there. I figure it’s always good to know someone nearby when you move to a new, strange place. This past year my classmate friend and I have exchanged e-mails every now and then, leading me to the comment that we have talked more to each other in the past few months than we did in four years of high school. Fact is, I was surprised she even remembered me since I was such a low-profiler back then…still am. She, on the other hand, wasn’t. She was a hottie foo foo cheerleader with multiple pictures in the yearbook. Imagine that–now after all these years, we could be neighbors if Rosemarie wins the prize, if the realtor finds us a house by the last commercial break and if all the other gazillion pieces fall into place. I may even try to get my friend a cameo appearance in the TV show. I wonder if she still has her pompoms.
Now, all this is fun speculating about moving somewhere new, but let’s face it, that’s the big cog that jams up this entire wheel—moving. We’ve been in this house for 18 years. That’s the longest we’ve been in one place since we got married…and you know how long that’s been! The mere thought of having to purge and pack up this house is enough to set my arthritic hands into long-term tremors. I like to think of myself as flexible and not set in my ways, but the older I get the more ways declare themselves set. The only move I’d be agreeable to right now is one that goes inward toward the table for dinner at a nice restaurant. Followed thereafter by a long period of immobility.
As you can see, all this has me a little anxious. Every day Rosemarie puts another entry into these two contests and now she’s beginning to go through the initial mental list-making of things we have to do to get ready for the big move. She figures it’s a good possibility given the number of entries she’s been stuffing into the HGTV website. Meanwhile, I have been going back and forth trying to decide which location would be the lesser of the two evils, should we win of course. Atlanta is a hell of a lot closer than Hawaii and I don’t mind living in a sexy downtown hi-rise as long as the neighbors are nice. But then, Atlanta will be a lot colder than Hawaii and I hate the cold now that I’ve been living in Florida for centuries. Plus, there’s another negative about Atlanta now that I’ve had time to think about it. There’s no pompoms there.