From Your Mouth to General Tso's Ear

I signed the papers to sell my darling little midtown charmer today and FedEx'd them back to the title company in Tucson. I looked at my savings account balance of over $44,000 and dreamed of all the things I could do with that money. And I felt like weeping, a little.

I opened my fortune cookie after dinner and laughed so hard I had to ask Jaci to read it for me.

"The best times of your life have not yet been lived."

I remember the first time I saw that house. Eileen Jeannette was the orchestra manager of the Tucson Symphony Orchestra, and she and her partner, principal horn Jacki Sellers , opened their home for the end-of-season party. All of the TSO administrative staff members were invited, along with their significant others. Many of the musicians attended also. I had been on my own for 21 months after the break-up with EEFFH. I had dated several men, but was lonely and alone, missing the loving relationship John and I had had, missing the beautiful old house we had in Washington. I would look at my 21st century-built home in Continental Ranch and think that it simply had no personality.

I turned onto Eileen and Jacki's street and sighed. Now here was a unique street. It was not a through street. The street you turned onto from either end was interrupted by a little square block, lined with charming little 1950s bungalows. I was later to learn that the woman whose daddy had developed the area still lived in one of the houses on the block.

I walked into the house at 2902 E Chula Vista and fell in love with the house. I don't think I even walked into the bedrooms. I just sat in the living room and looked at the quaintness of this charming house. I walked outside and saw guests enjoying the pool, chatted with people in the backyard. I was smitten with the house and the large yard. It was just love at first glance.

Six months later Eileen accepted a position with Pacific Symphony in Orange County, California. As I hugged her good-bye, I told her if she and Jacki ever decided to sell the house, to call me first. Four months later, they did.

I remember walking through the house with Jacki and worrying about how small the closets were, wondering how I would fit all my clothes into those closets, and wondering what I would do with all my shoes. But I was going to sell my big house in Continental Ranch. A beautiful house like that would sell quickly, then I could sink some of my equity into this darling house, where I would live for the rest of my life.

I would knock the back bedroom wall out, extend the bedroom so I could have a walk-in closet, a decent size bathroom with a jacuzzi soak tub and a decent shower, raise the ceiling, and replicate the master suite that was what had sold me on the house in Continental Ranch.

Jacki and I sat on the patio, signed a contract she had drawn up, and she popped the corks on two mini bottles of champagne she had in the fridge. The champagne was flat, but we laughed about it, not realizing it might be an omen for me.

The house in Continental Ranch didn't sell, but I didn't want to let this house go, so I took over $60,000 out of my IRA to be able to close the deal. The next April I was hit with a $25,000 tax bill.

Then my kids decided to move to Ohio. Then my loneliness and depression became palpable. Then I thought I could telecommute. Then my manager said I couldn't telecommute. Then I couldn't find a job. Then the kids invited me to move in. Then I started getting the house ready to sell. Then my water main broke and I had to pay $4,000 to replace it. Then I got a job and I paid $6,000 to move. Then I sold the old house and it cost me $25,000. Then I sold the new house and it cost me $44,000.

Then my dear friend told me yesterday that his 22yo son had emergency surgery and had a cancerous appendix removed. And one of my closest girlfriends e-mailed me today that her sweetheart has to have brain surgery to have an cerebral aneurysm repaired. This is after her former sweetheart died two years ago. This is the same friend for whom each of her three preschool grandchildren has serious health issues, including one with cancer. And I feel very shallow to be worried about money. Or loneliness.

So I will cling to the thought that the best is yet to come. On Tuesday I will wire that $44,000 to Tucson, and I will just brush my hands of the EEFFH era, and I will talk to my financial planner and polish my spreadsheet and figure out how to climb out of this very deep hole.