Roomies!

You may remember in my first post, I talked about how much I hate moving. It is more the transition (finding a place, having things in boxes, etc) than the exploration of a new city part. I do not like uncertainty in my living situation. I went to Cincinnati last weekend with my mom to look at rental properties. I am working with a great relocation agency who is doing all the work for me, since it makes me irritable to troll Craigslist and decipher whether "charming" really means tiny and dirty. I looked at one rental house that looked like the Bates Motel, and another in which the current tenant appeared to have used the floor as a garbage receptacle. I determined a house was way too big for me. And it turns out I'm still kind of scared of going in the basement by myself! I'm 33. I made my mom go down and check out the basement. Sad and embarrassing but true. I (or we more specifically) found a great condo, and would have had everything signed, sealed, and delivered, had my poor organization and intermittent inattention not struck again. DRAT! I woke up in the middle of the night realizing I had made a large and significant mistake on my salary in the wrong direction. Nothing like a nighttime panic attack. I did some deep breathing, and some at home cognitive behavioral therapy (much like the time I almost missed my flight on the way to take my licensing exam, did not work)! I'm hoping it all gets worked out by Monday and the condo owners are willing to rent to me. Otherwise perhaps I will live in my childhood bedroom in Cleveland and commute. My mom did say she felt like my roommate while we were looking at places. I hope they'll let me have my own shelf in the refrigerator and give me the good chores on the chore wheel. I am a doctor now, after all.