The treasure in the wreckage
Looking back at the perpetual trainwreck that was February 2023, I didn’t think I had much to show for in a monthly review. I literally don’t, no images at least, because I didn’t get any work done. But there’s a treasure in the wreckage nonetheless.
To get straight to the point of what has been occupying my life lately: we have mold in our house. That being rank as it is, it was making us very ill, myself especially. It got a lot worse real quick in the damp and drizzly February weather. By this point we are begging our landlord to do something about it, which we had been doing for well over a year, but it became clear to us we just had to move. Fast.
One of the places I apply for a viewing is a very cool apartment that was recently built into an old industrial building, right in the city centre. It looks like an art gallery and it has heated floors(!!!). It was quite a bit more expensive than the budget we had set for ourself, but our reservations were going out the window one by one anyway, the longer this crisis went on. And, well, heated floors! It would be the polar opposite of the cold and damp floors we were so used to by now.
I’d gotten a response to my request for a viewing that I had to send in a registry beforehand and hadn’t even actively read it because at that point I didn’t have the energy to pursue something that needed me to take more than one actionable step, because I was getting sicker by the day.
It got to the point that I could not stay in the house any longer because I could not breathe. This was two weeks ago. That night I escaped to sleep on a friend’s couch and to flee to my mother’s house the next day.
I got even worse that weekend, but started coming back to life around day 4 of being away from the mold. Now I got really busy with applying for any and every house we could find online. My boyfriend Willem mentioned the artsy house with heated floors, which rang a bell somewhere inbetween the brain fog, and I told him I would look at it. I found the email, googled the listing to check if it was still available after the 10 days that had passed. On the first hit on google on a big real estate collection site it was marked as rented, so I told Willem we could forget about it.
And there she was… my intuition: “Check the realtor’s website, maybe the information on the collection website is not correct.” Low and behold, it was still available on their website. I called them to check before I would write out the registry for something that was not available after all. They told me that if I wanted, I could come view it in an hour. I was still in my pity-pyjamas but knew this was my call to get into action. I felt that ‘click’ of accelaration, if you’ve ever done any manifestation you’ll maybe know what I mean. I promised the realtor on the phone I’d check if I could make it (”Mom? Hi, can I borrow your car for a sec? Ok cool brb”), hopped in the shower, threw my dog in the back of the car (gently, of course, just get with the vibe) and got us over there.
A familiar face opens the door. It was the realtor that had rented me and my ex a beautiful apartment with river view years ago. I remembered his name, I had even thought of calling him earlier to ask about any available rentals that he may have in his portfolio. Anyway, relieved to be dealing with a somewhat trusted soul, he shows me the apartment. It’s light, the kitchen centered downstairs but still in a nook away from seating and dining areas, two bedrooms upstairs, laaaarge bathroom… and then something the listing hadn’t mentioned: a car lift to the garage and storage below, exclusively for residents. What in the high end city living?!
My realtor friend tells me everything I need to know, and I know I want to live there. And not just because it has no mold. This will be our Artist Residence and it will be awesome. If Willem feels the same, we have to get into action. I drive straight home and gather all the documents I have at that moment. There were only a couple of things missing still, including my official 2022 tax figures. My accountant was still working on it for a couple of days. I was crossing my fingers and bothering my accountant to see if he already had something (bless his heart for always being super thoughtful, patient and supportive!).
I have never forwarded anything as fast as that tax figures document. I barely looked at it and sent it on its way. And then I let go. I did all I could do to the best of my abilities in that moment. If it is meant to be, it will be. If not, we’ll find something else. I still had some other options lined up if we had to. You guessed it though: we didn’t have to. Two days later, which felt like ETERNITY and was also a Friday, so I was already bracing myself for another weekend of Not Knowing – I got a call. We may live in our Artist Residence if we so please. And within a week already. YES!
I wanted to write “you have no idea how relieved we are”, but maybe at this point you do. We can’t wait to live here, make it our home, finally hang our art, to rest our tired bodies here, make more art, have friends and family over for dinner, solo dance parties halfway the work day… We’re finally home.