Have you ever seen where a fire started? Who knew one little cigarette butt could do so much damage? One cigarette butt took down a whole building, and nearly everything in it. Thankfully, all living things made it out. Unfortunately, lots of things that are still useful, still meaningful, and still sorely missed, are still inside. They will never come out. Because of one little cigarette, my Great Grandmother's fine china, my friend's family photographs, my bike, a friend's jewelry, and countless other treasures, will be bulldozed to the ground with the building. My insurance company will cut me a check, and I'll never touch that china again. I will not pass it on to my daughter some day. Now, I know my Great Grandmother would not have anyone get hurt trying to get her china out, but it does not change the fact that one person's carelessness took so much from the rest of us. It is almost unbelievable. It would be unbelievable if it happened to someone else. But we all know it didn't.

And after getting in a heated discussion with my insurance adjuster this morning about whether or not she would transfer my benefits to an available corporate apartment offered by my hospital or leave me in a slightly shady hotel, I'll be moving tomorrow. She implied that I was milking the system and trying to stay in temporary housing to avoid finding a permanent home and suck more money out of the insurance company. I firmly, and in no uncertain terms, reminded her that I was in no way obligated to take substandard housing to save my insurance company money while using a benefit for which I had been paying a premium for years. I mean, seriously, the house I looked at yesterday was the Taj Ma-Hole and had mold growing in the closet. NOT GOOD. Needless to say, tonight is my last night in the hotel, tomorrow I start at the corporate apartment, and I think she was crying before I stopped talking... oh, and my short term housing has been extended to Oct. 23, WHICH I DIDN'T EVEN ASK FOR. What is wrong with people?
But proving that it pays to know people that know people, one of my former patients (who probably loves me a little too much) really pulled one out of his hat and contacted a friend who has been trying to sell his (overpriced) house for quite a while without success. Everyone loves a good sob story (and money), so sure enough, the guy was willing to meet me and show me the house. I almost peed my pants before I even got out of the car.

I could live on the porch alone. And it's painted in almost the same colors as my apartment was. And I pink puffy heart it. And I didn't even think to take pictures downstairs of the two other bedrooms, or bathrooms, or living room, or lower porch... or POOL TABLE. Or riding lawn mower. Jealous?

And there's a double stove-thingy/bread-warmer-whatever-it's-for-thingy. And the fridge is HUGE. And check out the spiral staircase and reading nook with storage/playroom. Otis and Oz may never come in off the porch... Pooh King may not either, come to think about it.

So a week later, things are settling back into a more "normal" pace. Well, as normal as you can get for being a week out from having lost most of your material possessions. We've basically settled back into a nomadic life, but that will be over Oct. 23, when my new lease starts. It will be different than decorating the new apartment was, but I can do it. :)

I didn't even cry today. Really. A little misty, maybe, but no crying.