Missed It By That Much

I missed it again. I thought of it for weeks in advance and then, on the day, other bells rang but not this one.

Seven years ago...yesterday I left work in the early afternoon, took a bus to a random conference room full of people I'd never met before and signed my name a thousand cramped and frightened times. I left that conference room with a gifted bottle of cheap champagne and a set of keys and got back on the bus to finish my day at work. Yeah, I didn't somehow even manage to get a vacation day for the closing on my first home.

That night friends gathered and sat on the empty floor of my steamy little abode drinking champagne (not so cheap) and wondering what in the name of little red cranberries would make someone paint a wall the color of Cyndi Lauper's hair.

I think I'm probably part of this community now. I think the oldsters might believe I'm planning to stay. The guards know me. The ladies watch out for me. The porters forgive me my recycling transgressions.

When people ask if I rent or own I still can't say simply, "I own." I have to qualify. "Own. Well, me and Wells Fargo." It's mine and I love it but it remains hard to believe that something might not happen to snatch this particular rug out from under me. I am seven years closer, though, seven times 12 payments closer to taking Wells Fargo out of my sentence.

Drinking champagne on the floor in here continues to be a most sweet indulgence.