Our closing date on the new condo is Tuesday. Tuesday! We get keys and can hire electricians, painters, movers. After all this waiting it’s now five days away. Homeowners. Grownups? Have I grown up? I have the insurance bill to prove it.
As I was speaking to insurance companies, discussing fires and floods, tornadoes and theft, I realized I’ve been wandering through life collecting thousands of dollars worth of stuff and NEVER insured it. I spoke to my father today about it. I said, I have at least $20,000 worth of artwork now, small peas to any collector, but for me, basement-renter, it seems a lot.
Henry, the guy who has been helping me get insurance despite my pit bull ownership, asked, “How many handbags do you own? Shoes? You know a lot of people underestimate how much they actually have to insure.” I looked around. Oh, better add another ten grand. More? Uh, ok.
What if someone trips down my stairs? Add more, lots more.
What about the books? How many? Ok, hold on. My husband says 4,000 to be safe. Yeah, a few rare, signed copies. Shit, add that, too
Now, this is just stuff I’ve gotten my hands on while I’ve been poor. And I’ll be poor again as soon as I fork over the rest of the offered price on the condo. I’m not sure that will stop me from collecting shit. The size of the condo should keep me to certain limits, but who knows if we’ll figure a way around that.
Back to closing… I need to call people. I need an electrical outlet on my porch. I need the place painted before I move any furniture. I need grass down before I move in the dogs.
Then, I need to throw several cocktail parties for friends who have invited themselves over. Need to smoke a bowl on my back porch ASAP. Hehe. Oh, yeah! I’m ready to start packing.