the Nonsense in Between

We were told the bank would have an answer about our house on Friday, then on Monday but its Tuesday morning and still no answer. But we remain hopeful. Our agent said the two offers (ours and one other) are very similar though we don't know how similar or whose is better, so we are just hoping something bigger than numbers is on our side.

Update: Wednesday morning, still no news.

I just found out that our offer was not accepted. Part of me feels the loss and wants to be sad and even a little angry. People say "it wasn't meant to be" or "there was probably something wrong with it" and it would be easy to believe those things but I dont.

I believe that house was a great little buy, I believe that it's been well loved and cared for. And I'd like to believe that the single mom we were competing with for the house deserved and needed it more than we did. I hope that she and her children enjoy their time in that house and all the memories they'll get to have there.

I have been shaped, like we all have, to believe that time actually exists in measurable units of seconds, hours and minutes, but I am always reminded of the unreality of this concept when we "change the time" and save daylight.

If we can change time, "lose" it and then "gain" it back again, it cannot be a naturally occurring phenomenon but one that we have created. I understand its application in modern society but when I get the opportunity to ponder the unreality of it I get excited and for a moment -- a minute? an hour? -- I feel free. Invariably, though, there is some timepiece around to force me back into a "reality" where we are all slaves to a second hand.

I like the idea of living in a place where time doesn't exist. I wish I could have lived like indigenous people live(d), experiencing time the way nature intended -- without clocks. Then I wouldn't be so angry about having an hour stolen from me this week!

Somehow I don't think my professors would appreciate such an experiment so I'd better get to class. And I'll just have to wait until Fall to get my hour back.

"Home" has felt like a question for the last eight years. For a long time I had hoped it would change; that I would replace old home with new home and solve the whole dilemma, but now that I'm older (and wiser?) I'm trying to embrace the dilemma. Sure, it's inconvenient to have to travel several hundred miles by two types of transportation just to see my family but at the same time i realize it's a blessing to have such strong roots -- even if I do feel guilty for being so far away sometimes.

Tomorrow morning I leave for Roswell, it will be the first time i've been home in over a year and half. I have felt the distance between me and that place growing, I used to push it away even, but now I want to hold on to it; preserve it like an old photograph. I realize that even if when I do find a new place to plant my roots (Denver? LA? An Island in the pacific where clocks are forbidden?) Roswell will always be home and I hope that it is always there for me to go back to.

This trip is going to be hard because I have to leave my (new) family for an entire week. I realized today that Dominic and I haven't spent a night apart since he was having an affair with an architectural model, that was nearly three years ago! I know that in the grand scheme of things one week away is not a big deal, especially when you consider we spent the first six months of our relationship in separate states, but I'm still going to miss him terribly. I guess it will be good practice for when I leave to Mexico for three weeks (oh yeah, most of you don't know about that, its actually quite blogworthy. expect a post soon, my parents actually have internet that's not dial up now so I'll try posting from home)

All romantic ideas of Roswell began fading when I got off my plane in Albuquerque and received the bad news every flier dreads to hear: Your bag has been delayed. At the baggage claim counter I was told not to worry because the bag would arrive on the next flight and if I'd just give them the address of my hotel some nice courier would deliver it there and I wouldn't even be without my bag for a night. That would have been nice, except I was on my way to Roswell and no courier would be bringing my bag to me there. The woman behind the desk scratched her head, then gave me a look like "I'm not even going to lie to you, it sucks to be you right now". Then she informed me that there used to be small planes that flew from Albuquerque to Roswell but they stopped flying years ago. With that option obviously out she gave me my next on: "We could Fed ex it to you, but since it's the weekend it probably won't get there until Tuesday". I wasn't too keen on waiting three days to get my things so the woman found another option; my bag would fly into albuquerque from Denver, then to Dallas, then to Roswell.

So I went one night without my bag and it wasn't so bad but getting it from Roswell's teeny tiny airport was a challenge. United told me to pick my bag up there after 9pm on Sunday but it's a good thing I showed up 15 minutes early because by that time the airport was nearly closed. There wasn't a soul inside and the one little plane on the tarmac had already unloaded. Frantically, I searched for someone and finally found a guy that was just about to leave. At last, my bag and I were reunited.

Wearing dirty clothes for a day isn't the worst thing that has happened, though. Many of you might know I'm quite fond of taking pictures, and I wasn't about to come all the way here without my Stella. She and I made it here but the main lens I use has decided not to work. Since I have an extended warranty on the lens it wouldn't be such a big deal, that is if I were in a place that hadn't been forsaken by God. You see, not only do planes not fly here (well except for one from Dallas) but there are no camera stores, not a single one, even places like Target, Walmart, and Sears that typically sell camera accessories don't sell them in Roswell. Because Roswell sucks!

I miss my husband, I miss my dog, I miss taking pictures. I want to go home.