At least I’m not being fed bullshit. I am, however, being kept in the darK. I consider the absence of bullshit to be worth the lack of enlightenment. I don’t yet know what is going to happen regarding the future of the Wilmot Country Store after it burned to the ground January 23rd, one week before I was to take possession. I don’t know that the owners know any more than I do. It appears to be in the hands of their insurance company, which is even more disturbing than being in the lap of the gods.
For me, the added problem is that I have no idea where I will live. A residence was a part of the store. I’m now staying with my son, Adam, which is somewhat akin to “roughing it.” Best if I not go into too much detail here…
The thing is, IF I am going to re-build the shop, it will have major ramifications for me to arrange future accommodation. I’ll need to be looking at smallish tents. If, on the other hand, I won’t be re-building it, then I can re-start the hunt for my dream home. Or I could take over the renovation of Adam’s house and make it my own.
Meanwhile, all of my worldly goods remain in storage. I haven’t seen any of my furniture, art, clothes, kitchen stuff, etc., for about seven months. And there appears to be no end in sight. “Why do I do it?” the local used car salesman shouts on television… Well, damned if I know. I want to re-build the shop, but if I do, I can’t afford to buy a house. I can’t do both. This is what I expect is meant by the phrase “horns of a dilemma.” To be even more specific, in my case that would be the goat horns of said dilemma. I have experience here. I have been on those horns, and it was unpleasant.
Goats are funny animals. HaHa. Adam has two large goats. Tory and Grant. They like to hang around where the people are. I still have a shadow of the bruise I acquired when Grant decided I wasn’t one of the people he wanted to hang around with. His nicely curled horn wrapped perfectly around my thigh. Bit I digress…
Back to my dilemma. No, I take it back. I’m putting the dilemma into the too-hard basket and going out to play with Grant and Tory. MM
It should have been ‘just’ a quick thought. I hate it when Apple corrects my typing. It’s chosen replacement is never what I meant to say.
The Meandering Matriarch said:
I know what you mean! It makes me crazy… Sometimes the results are funny, but mostly they’re just annoying. I did know what you meant, tho. Thanks for the comment — I’m considering all options!
Judge a quick thought. We were in Wilmot yesterday and saw the excavator levelling land for containers on the vacant piece of land I mentioned previously. Do you know that a bore was sunk in the middle of that block? Former owners Lindsay & Veronique took the pump with them, but there is a bore there, sunk in 2005 or thereabouts. I can’t remember if it was safe for consumption, but a water supply can be handy for other things.
There is plenty of local rental accommodation. Maybe you could put a caravan on site? We heard yesterday that the police were waiting on a final laboratory test to determine accident or arson. It’s hard even for locals to work out truth versus rumour. It’s currently running that a overloaded powerboard caused the fire. Just FYI. We were too late to get our post parcels. The post office is running out of the school, 9am to 3pm.
The bakery in Wilmot with a B&B was for sale. Would you consider changing properties? The bakery could upgrade, building in the other services, but fuel would be a problem.
More major suckitude … this time of the waiting game variety.
Over the years, when I’ve been in these kinds of situations, I’ve learned to regard it as a chess game. One cannot move until the other moves. In the meantime one observes the board and considers one’s options. Then one does something completely different until the time when one’s opponent makes their move.
P.S. I used to play chess with someone who took a really, really, long time between moves.
The Meandering Matriarch said:
Perhaps I need to finally learn to play chess. Adam wanted to teach me how when he was five. He could teach me now, but it don’t think that would help much–he is very good and doesn’t take much time to make a move. I’m doomed.
Oh, dear! Yes, having two unmarried sons I can guess what the accommodation is like and how hard it must be for you to keep yourself from rearranging furniture while he is out, and keeping well away from duster and scrubber. Maybe you just have to throw yourself into something else to pass the time until the insurance company comes to a decision. Difficult, but perhaps necessary in order to retain your sense of humour!