There has been a lot of thinking in my room, lately. The thinking has centered around winter, and what I might do to get through it. A couple of doctors recently have offered me annual visits, not semi-annual. I accepted without second thought--it doesn't snow in August!
According to The Farmer's Almanac, northeastern Ohio is in for it. Unreasonably cold and snowy. I live about where the last "a" is located in that statement on the map. Last winter also was unreasonably cold and snowy. We had 20" of snow accumulated in the drive outside the garage; any car left in there would have been snowbound.
On the other hand, that same 20" was moved in increments from the hundred foot sidewalk to the top parking area, and then piled higher and higher around the two or three cars parking there. I didn't want to deal with one flake of it this winter, and by the time I thought of it, neither did any of the snow removal outfits that worked in the township. No plow company would take on the job.
Another problem is my solitude. I like it too much. I need someone to say "Let's go for a walk!" "Let's go to the gym!" And in my usual in for a dime, in for a dollar, I decided it's time to go all the way.
I've spent a deal of time these last couple of weeks interviewing independent living facilities. I had to know if they could accommodate my business, my car, my deliveries, and then all my wants, like a card game, a gym, a studio apartment.
The most common strike-out was a waiting list. Next was lack of the size/price point I wanted. Several offered the next size up at reduced rent, but I have become so leery of rental agents, no thanks. These places are all owned by people interested in profit. Then there was the right size, on the second floor, without an elevator.
I kept my eye on a community that looked perfect on paper (actually, the internet). I exchanged texts with the Community Coordinator; she would return my call the next day, the next day, the next day; she was swamped with tours. An assistant did call to offer apologies and we set up an appointment for yesterday, the last tour of the day, though there were two on the schedule for today, Saturday.
Jan came with me; two old ladies on canes. The Coordinator was personable and knowledgeable. I patiently sat through the sales pitch, and all I wanted to do was see the room I knew was still available. The boxes I needed ticked were.
When we came to car and snow, the concierge will clean your car and drive it around to the main entrance for you. "We keep snow cleared; safety is first!" It actually says that on their front page: 'A senior living community specializing in "quality of life with safety in mind."' I almost signed on the dotted line right there. But I still needed to see the room.
Bigger than my current digs. The Coordinator was pointing out where the previous tenant had positioned his bed, his sofa, his blablabla. And I said to Jan, "The bed goes into this walk in closet, plus my clothes.
There is a storage area across from my door to store all the wheel chairs and walking aids and other miscellaneous I have accumulated. The community laundry room is one more door down.
Three enormous windows are positioned along the wall behind the "bed". The first two windows are set into an alcove; the third has a very deep window seat in the alcove in front of it. Something mechanical is enclosed by that window seat, and I asked the Coordinator to learn what.
I asked my sister, "What would love to occupy that window?", and she said "You tell me; I'm not putting any ideas into your head!"
"You can't have Toby; Bek loves that cat!"
"I know, and he's all hers!" I asked the Coordinator, "Pets allowed?"
She answered "Small dogs and cats."
"Sounds like a calico to me," I said to Jan.
Deal done. Sometime in September I will be in the last efficiency in The Atrium of Aurora. Ohio, that is.