Animals, Country Living and Movin' to the big small town of Kingston

I fancy myself a city girl but now that I have moved to the country I'm not sure that I am. Who doesn't have the fantasy of living outside the city with a sprawling house, white picket fence, (or in my case every picket is a different colour of pastel), maybe a perpetual infant baby goat, an herb garden with the smell of lavender and the sound of songbirds, geese and loons in the air?  

When my life was in limbo, Brother Tom in Belleville said I could stay in his house since he had just moved out. I would squat there until I bought a house in the Quinte area to start up again as Spoiled Rotten B&B. As well, my wonderful friend Deb invited me, without hesitation (first warning sign lol) to live with her while I was in transit between houses and rentals- that's  2 1/2 months living with another human being (for the first time in 10 years) and her 800 pets, with me not particularly liking animals.  This is the saga of what transpired at my "3 year" stay at my saviour's place in Bourget, a sleepy hamlet of now 12 people. 

Moments after I moved  to the country, my family and Deb rented an RV to  tour around western Ontario, the Manitoulin Island.  My body was not in great shape for this trip.  I had pushed it so hard on the last few days of the move, let's be

 honest, the the last month, I was crippled up like an old lady checking out the chiropractor every chance I got. I sure hope this isn't what I can expect for the future, having  just turned 60.

 I did put my body through way too much in way too short a time and the pain has lasted for half a year.

Hanging the mask out to dry- 2020!

Living in the country was an adjustment to this citified senior.  I love to hang my clothes on the line but before you can get them dry, we have to put them in a machine that is fed by a well 

that may or may not have sulfur or heavy duty salt or just agent orange oozing  from it to possibly permanently stain everything. And then when you do hang it on the line the farmers conspired that day to fertilize their fields.  What is the protocol  for this?  Do I now go to the effort of taking it all down before everything smells like poop? I don't know. I'm from the big city.  Now what is that smell?!

The place I lived at had one very large dog and 2 cats, including one white very lovable cat who would wake me up daily very early if I didn't close my door. One day, I woke up and it was licking my 

 face and so cute.

  I started to smile until I realized it was the big  smelly dog French kissing me. Ewww!! What is that smell?!

This dog is another situation. I think his name is Cujo although they may have called him Raven. He's old, he looks sad but it doesn't stop him from wanting to pick up this broken volleyball in his wet mouth covered in slime, both the ball and dog, and then wants me to take it from him to throw it in a loco game of fetch. When I go to take it from him to throw it, he won't let go and he won't listen to my command "down" or "drop it" or "let go damnit, come on you big jerk" and that really pisses me off because he listens to the 12 year old . Most of the time though he just stares at me with big sad eyes begging me to pay attention. That will be etched in my memory for life. One time I took a picture of the white cat in repose and realized the dog was in the photo, outside staring in, all hurt because I was petting the cat.  Ok that will be etched in my mind forever too.

I grew up thinking animals were expendable.  We never got attached and they always died suddenly, often on the highway or down the back with the odd shotgun or BB gun freak accident, on a regular basis.  The deep back was more like the Bermuda Triangle for unloved pets but here on Deb's hobby farm, I actually learned to like them.  My biggest shocker came at the horse stables.  We watched the first day and rode the 2nd day.  I fell in love with the horse.  It was so gentle that I finally understood my mothers love of them. A million thank yous to Shannon.  

The last couple weeks were very trying on me because I didn't know how to just relax and do nothing. I started going for walks at night; something I haven't done in years.  On these walks I'd see fields and farmer's crops and the fields were so still. I half  expected a werewolf to come out of them at dark but it never does. Oh there's always that possibility; the same possibility that I went on numerous walks. Mind your own business. 

On a warm summer day, we walked two km to the apple orchard and pick a small bushel of my favourite apples -Honeycrisp. The gentleman was a delight and kept trying to get me to try different apples and convinced me that they were better than Honeycrisp. Finally he gave up, sighed and  said okay, row 17 which is where I found the saddest bunch of apples I've ever seen. They didn't even taste good, so bitter. No wonder he wanted to talk me out of it. And then I find out my roommate doesn't eat apples so the apples slowly rotted- what a shame. I would love to core them with my 2 machines and make apple crisp but of course the corers are all packed away in another black hole. 

Country living provides sketchy Wi-fi at best and many of my calls dropped. When I sat outside up front, in the only spot I consistently got good phone Wi-Fi and privacy from the dogs and cats listening in, I kept getting dive bombed by the Asian ladybirds. There were millions of them out there all over the front porch and in the back yard and they ate me alive.

The hot summer days were especially difficult for me, before I started painting everything.  Deb had done some very drastic renovations to her house this year but she never ceased to amaze me how she would drywall, paint, use the leaf blower, hammer drill, winterize, re-mount all the freshly cut trim, use the riding lawn mower, load the house with firewood and use the wood cutter. She was unstoppable.  It had been a strange year for both of us.

 I had lots of time to think about all the changes in my life.  Running the B&B, 

I'd had absolutely no time for a social life.  Now that I was retired and had time for a social life, I found myself in middle of nowhere and with only one drinking hole, in the middle of a pandemic and I continued to ask myself, what had I done?

The finale to 2020, a year of pandemonium, was CRA came up with a loophole to recover all the money they gave out to entrepreneurs and now I owe $10,000 in retirement.  The queen and I are not amused- ok, maybe she is a little because she will probably get a cut.  Many businesses will go belly up.  Most young people have not put aside the taxes so they will owe beyond their means and probably declare bankruptcy. I am nervous for 2021.

A few months ago we started looking for houses in Kingston and it was a dismal search. The 1st one was a new development with no trees no grass and the real estate agent did not show up. I swore I would never live in a place like that. The place we ended up with is a new development with no trees and no grass. The area was levelled of trees and greenery so that millions of 

townhouses could invade and yesterday, I noticed deer behind my fence near a shrub. Friends heard coyotes at night behind the houses opposite us.  They have no where to go.  Maybe my animal loving daughter will take them all to live with her in the basement.

 There are so many adjustments to a new move in a new development.  Until we find where we packed them, there are no curtains on any of the windows including the bathroom ones so we are living in a fishbowl.  Because I got up before the sun I ran my soaker tub which I have missed dearly and found out what "hot water on demand" means. It takes a long while to get hot water. And if you're in the tub and you want to top up the hot water you are going to get cold water for a very long while. That is a new adjustment for me. I ran the soaker tub in the dark and started a guided meditation, my 1st in many months and it was heavenly.  

  

There are no locks on the bedroom doors so I will have to find them in storage. There is no grass in the backyard until next year; mud as far as the eye can see.  

There are no gutters until spring so every time it rains, as you go outside you get wet.  

It was nice to re-acquaint myself with all my old favorite everything that had been in storage for many many months even if half of it went back in storage in the garage waiting for their permanent home next year. With over 300 boxes, all placed in the wrong locations of the new place, and I think 260 of them each contain at least 2 pillows, 3 towels, a quilt, 200 wash cloths and every towel you have ever seen in your life. OMG I have no idea where to put everything. I just opened a box that had 7 bathrobes. I don't even know what to do with that, it's so hilarious. The house is a total disaster and yet so full of promise. 

When you do something with the right intention the universe opens up many new paths for you. My meditation was about surrendering control. I think I've done that because all I have planned is a move and unpacking. That's as far as I've gotten. Will I get a job, no idea. Not even sure I can immerse myself in the culture here.

We take so much for granted. Now when I wash my hair the well salt did not turn my hair into straw- suweeeet!. Oh what a joy it is to get a glass of
water from the tap and drink it. I guess I'm a city girl at heart. I am just not one of those country people who look out over the fields and sigh happily but I am eternally grateful for one of them.  

Final rant - got to get them all out before 2021.  It's loud outside  but the rumbling is not just the trucks building homes or the airport that we moved beside but rather it is the ever running, (at least 6 times a day starting at 4am), Via Rail train that rumbles the land. This is going to be one hell of a great year LMAO. I'm signing out of 2020.  Had enough.  Buh bye and here's to the future- 2021!

  

Sold the B&B in a Pandemic; Made a bundle but wondering if I am a hoarder?

 2020 was a rough year:  

• Bylaw killed my workshops, 
• Threats of Covid and a cold followed me from Australia as they closed the borders 
• The city restricted what kinds of guests I was allowed- only potentially sick ones who were serving their country were allowed 
• I closed the doors to the B&B for good
• CRA demanded their $10,000 CERB grant  money back

Talked to all my local bed and breakfast owners about the hardships they were encountering and the things they were having to cut out. Heard that all the hotels were virtually empty and I absolutely couldn't imagine cleaning the way most of the other B&B owners had dedicated their lives to making their places safe so on the spur of

the moment, I made the difficult and very exhilarating and terrifying decision to close my doors, sell my house and become a vagabond. 

Many have asked why.  Well, a week and a half previously I had tried to climb up and down my stairs and my knees were in excruciating pain and I got scared that knee replacements were going to be needed. Was I going to need a bungalow now that I had turned 60?  Was it really all downhill from here?   I called a realtor friend just to get a feel for the lay of the land if ever I did one day maybe decide to sell.  

She discussed what a seller's market it was due to the pandemic and all the bidding wars.   My head was spinning so I invited myself over to my neighbor's place for glass of wine and to pick their brains. Collectively they told me to sell. Then I called my sister and she told me to sell and close the business. Close the business? But that is how I have identified myself for 6 years. Who would I be without it? It had become my identity altho if I could,  at age 60, get rid of my mortgage, as sister suggested, I would be truly blessed. 

On Thursday, within a couple of hours of  the realtor telling me now is a good time to sell and me, with my head spinning, telling her I was NOT selling my house, I was filling boxes with all the clutter and travel related stuff. I looked down  and realized maybe I am selling. 

By morning, 6 years worth of setting up my house had been reduced (or elevated, depending upon your outlook) 
to looking like a regular home. And then the serious decluttering commenced.  What an adventure. 

It was an eye-opening weekend in relation to planning a move. The moving lady said I needed at least 60 boxes and to pack 10 boxes a day to take care of this move by myself, and save money. Most days I packed one or two boxes so I knew I was in a heap of trouble.

Crammed to the gills with 20 years of light hoarding and 6 years of bed and breakfast clutter, on Monday the Stager and Realtor showed up to talk about what might be involved for moving and they was stunned by how much had been accomplished.  You know you are in trouble when the stager says she really wished she could have done a before and after video or show; I'm sure she meant it as a compliment. Maybe I am a hoarder, or maybe I'm not and she's just a monster!  

Next I had to decide what to do with all my stuff. My head hurt because I couldn't decide do I get a pod and then pay storage and pod fees or buy a C-can or just do storage and pay moving fees. Back and forth it went. I went to sleep and when I woke up the answer was there. Hire friend Louise to help me clean my garage so I could store everything there until I sold the house and put it all in storage. She hurried over, performed her miracles and the boxes being stored began. 

I had hired someone to build a large deck up front and we amended the size since I wasn't going to be living there anymore. Three deck guys came everyday while I was packing inside. It was like Grand Central Station because I also hired a couple of painters to do my main floor in the most boring of colours I've ever seen- Gray, like every other house on the market! I also had a neighbour take down my real indoor living room tree while I lovingly took down the branches and all the tree life. 

The house was to be put on the market on Friday and on the following Thursday, I kept on finding new pockets of evil to clean  and then I waited for them to show up only to find out they were coming in the afternoon and everything was being delayed. OMG I was ready and  I wanted to get it done. Lets just get this property listed already!

When they finally came in the Stager almost fell down, the place looked so spectacular. Fresh paint and the deck and the decluttering raise the price an additional $60,000, hard to believe. They placed pictures removed more ornaments and dragged a box around the house and filled it with unnecessary loved items as they scraped new draglines on my newly waxed floors. In the end I think I waxed them five times and the house is now a little bit smaller due to all the floor wax.

I'm not agreeing that I'm a pack rat but going through a box full of manuals I found a package of receipts dating back to 1988, 32 years past and it was for a Tupperware party bowl purchase.  Maybe I am taking this hoarding just a little bit too far.

So the deck was finished as much as it could be. The painting was finished as much as it could be. The for sale sign was up and the surprisingly small trickle of bidding war viewers started their parade. When there was a long stretch between viewings I would just stay home. When there were shorter stretches I would sit in my car up the street, waiting for them to leave. Selling your house is a very anxious time. Any questions from the realtor had me rooting around in my 35C furnace of a garage to try and find it among the burial ground where paper goes to die in poorly packed boxes.

Selling my house alone had in some ways gone beyond my wildest expectations of what hell would be. The lack of sleep, the twitching, the lack of food in the house to eat and never being able to find anything is so very annoying and now that I think about it, very much like having a newborn. The only thing different is a baby screams rather than me. The house echoed when I walked. All the dishes I thoughtfully put aside for my upcoming RV trip were pillaged for everyday living and then accidentally packed.  How can I live like this until next summer. I'm getting the yearnings now to buy another place or start looking for one in the Belleville area at top dollar. If I really thought about all the changes coming up, quitting my job, selling my house and moving, I would probably curl up into a fetal position but I can't concentrate on that.

I'd never bought or sold a home by myself in my life but it's like everything I've done over the last 15 years has prepared me for it. Working at the catering coordinator job taught me about extreme attention to detail. Working as a bed-and-breakfast owner helped me always be ready for guests and be able to pull it together in minutes for a showing, if need be. I know the best ways to show off floors with high gloss and I can see a crumb of sand that needs to be picked up across the floor or a piece of lint or wrinkle on a bedspread that needs to be smoothed out. 

I saw a monarch butterfly yesterday in my perennial garden and I froze. I'd spent countless 1000's of dollars over the last 20 years on flowers to attract butterflies and they'd never come. On the day the For Sale sign went on my front lawn, the butterfly came -WTH! Was he saying goodbye, and thanks for the flower goodies or she saying "screw you, your ex house is now on the Parade of Homes  for butterfly migration.  Bazinga!

 

After that it was a whirlwind of using Facebook with the Buy
Nothing group that I had long pillaged and never given back. Now it was my turn to start giving away so much stuff. I filled the driveway with a free yard sale. With every person agreeing to take different stuff they had to bring boxes and newspapers. I even posted an indoor free yardsale and while they told me it would never work, I got rid of lots.   I received many angry looks and some heated words from most of the husbands warning me to cease and desist giving my trash to their wives.  Not my problem if you ignore them and their only passion is garage sales and hoarding.  

I did have a few, lets say frustrating moments.  I had hoped the new owners would let me leave a couch that had been cut in half and carefully put together to bring down the narrow stairs.  Nope. I used my sawzall to cut it to firewood and I'm sure I'm the only one to ever cut the back of my leg in the process.  Who does that?

 

I had put 4 lawn chairs by the road and only three cushions.  A 'shopper' came by when my daughter was watching over things and demanded the last cushion which I had planned on keeping.  Daughter reluctantly gave it without knowing but can you imagine the utter gall of someone getting free stuff and demanding more? Then she pointed to the patio set and said she would take that for free too.  Nope, never you ungrateful b*tch!

  

Kijiji gave me a run for my money too.  One young lady  bought my fabulous dining table for next to nothing.  Her father examined it and said it was very good.  They took it apart, paid and went home. I got a call asking if I would take it back because it wasn't a good fit.  Uh, no.  I suggested she just repost it and she told me that there is a chunk missing from the table and "maybe it happened during the move but she couldn't sell it anymore."  Not my problem.  

Another asked if I would take less for something and I told her no.  Her mom jumped in with "everything stinks".  Nope.  I can't smell it but I totally understand if you don't want to buy it, I told her.  She argued and argued and finally the daughter told her "Mom stop!"  She wanted it.  There was no smell.

  

One man bought a heavy bed and while they were cursing and bringing it downstairs, they bashed up the walls pretty bad.  No apologies.  Finally there was the woman who wanted to buy a patio table.  52 messages both before and after the purchase.  OMG!  And it was only $60.  

 The time came to start filling the storage unit that was woefully too

small. I loaded up my car twice and put in 39 boxes in this tiny little Prius. I was totally amazed. By the end, I was up to maybe 300 boxes. 

I  finally went to see a storage unit and was shocked as I went inside the 10'x20' unit when I realized how tiny it was. I have 60 years accumulation of junk to put into this tiny unit. It couldn't be done. I was going to have to sell so much more stuff and then give away so much more stuff from my house for this to work. I took the recommendation to pay for a whole year, almost $4,000 for the best rate and will get back all the money for the full cost months if I found a place sooner. As I opened up the unit for the second time I realized with sadness that my entire life would fit inside the unit very shortly. Then I cheered myself thinking yes but as I downsize and simplified my life I was going to become more mobile and travel.... yes, in a pandemic. By the time I finished, I could barely close the door. 

Initially, the larger unit had been put together masterfully. The right side was to be long term, the left side -short term. There was to be a hallway in between so I could quickly access everything. I had two clipboards; one for long term, and1 for short term. Every box that went in there was itemized numbered and put on the correct board. By the end the aisle was gone up to the rafters touching the ceiling was full and there's not 1 ounce of space left. I would never find anything in there now. 

My life used to be cleaning and cooking and then after I prepared and sold the house it became packing and lifting and a massive game of Tetris in the10x20 unit and 5x10 two storage units. Yes you heard that right- I was the proud owner of two Staycation storage properties. 

The original plan was always to have a particularly hard-working family member join me, DIANE ! but #$%&*t that did not occur and it scared me to realize I have to count on myself for the logistics, the packing, the unit organizing and all the cleanup. How do people do this. In the past it was always taken care of by the military but not this time. I knew I could do it but it was terrifying as the days counted down. 

 

On the last day, I had stuffed every last crumb from my house, like the the grinch from Whoville and filled not just my Prius but my daughters Nissan and some stuff with friend Benny, my neighbor Marie and my realtor. God help me if I remember where everything is. I sold almost all of my furniture and gave away so much of my stuff to anybody who walked into my house and said oh that's nice -here it's yours. 

My actual retirement life started Aug 28, a mere 8 weeks later although I actually retired July 1st and closed the doors to Spoiled Rotten Bed and Breakfast. Unfortunately, I hadn't stopped working day-and-night until the 28th when the house was emptied for good and I hobbled away in much pain and with a bad back, and go to a trailer at the lake with my friend and saviour Benny. Free at last after 6 years!

 And do you know the most exciting part? The huge basket of ironing is now just going to be put in the closet never to be ironed again.    I won't miss the cleaning so much.  

This pandemic has changed so many lives in so many ways and taught us what is important by taking away what was really important. 

I think I just might join all the other closed B&B owners and pour a really larger pitcher of drinks for us all to celebrate and lick our wounds, and celebrate Christmas in 2020.