Change of Plans

December's solar eclipse, and the associated partial lunar eclipse, according to astrology, says I could be affected by "immigration or relocation matters." Well, it was a short delay from the actual eclipse, but today the hammer dropped.

When Keith and I moved here in March of 2020, we expected the cottage my daughter was having built for us to be completed in two weeks, a month at the outside.

Whenever I ask the builder…and I have, regularly… how much longer it would be, he always assures me: "Just a couple more weeks, a month at the most."

Now, of course I'm well aware of the effect coronavirus has had on everyone. Nearly a million American workers have died already, triggering supply-chain problems across-the-board. Consequently we've looked the other way. But coronvirus can't explain why people who aren't sick and are available, according to the boss, just aren't there to work. And it doesn't explain why weeks can go by without any visible change to the structure, even when the workers are supposedly working.

This was taken on the 21st.

This was taken on the 25th.

Keith and I started out here in a 200 square foot shed, to which I quickly added a canvas porch of equal size. We lived there successfully for over a year, despite irregular solar electricty, no hot water, and a long uphill climb to where we had to park. At first it was fun, as we both love camping. (In fact, that was the main thing that led to our meeting each other. We were camping buddies a year before it turned romantic.)

But it began to become less fun. For example, I couldn't get a driver's licence, because where I lived was not legal housing, and therefore I had no "physical address". I had trouble getting a bank account for the same reason (though I eventually opened one by making an address up). It didn't matter that I had a post office box.

And then Jenny decided to sell half the property, Lot D. That was the lot on which our shed was located. When she did sell, we had to move into a smaller shed, without a porch, with all our possessions, not only from the lower shed, but also from the storage tent I'd also set up.

With all our stuff crammed in there, it was impossible to clean or organize things. We found ourselves making the four-hour round trip to Wal-Mart to buy things we already owned but couldn't find. But it was only going to be for two weeks, right? A month at most?

We moved into that tiny shed at the beginning of November. And we are still there.

My health has also been affected. Instead of getting fitter by walking up and down the slopes (often in mud), it destroyed my Achilles tendons, leaving me barely able to walk, much less hike the places here I wanted to.

Keith was also being affected in a negative manner. And, in the intense isolation of a 22-month-long camping trip, we also found that we'd spent enough time together, really. We still love each other, but our time living together is done as we each follow our diverging paths.

And then, my daughter announced: Move back to Arizona.

To say I was surprised and disappointed, would be an understatement. I had been holding out all this time on the promise of this amazing bamboo cottage, and now I would never even see it completed. (Not that I'm likely to live that long anyway, given the builders' track record.)

When Jenny does something, it gets done. Sometimes willy-nilly, but it gets done. Fast.

So: Keith will be packing his stuff first (because it's on top, and there's a lot more of it), and flying out on the 7th, the same day my grandson Zach is flying in to help me finish the rest.

We had just a couple months' advance warning when we moved to Maui (we left early because I knew COVID was going to result in a shutdown; and I was right: Keith landed on the very day shutdown began.

It's very likely that my being here saved my life twice. Firstly, Maui did the right things at the beginning and kept the number of infections to almost zero before the vaccines became available. Given that Arizona had one of the worst death rates early on (and continuing, thanks to its fascist governor), being here probably saved me on that basis alone. But then, in June of 2020, after being transported by ambulance, I spent a week in the hospital with cellulitis due to a staple from my previous bout with flesh-eating bacteria working its way out. If I'd been in Arizona, with its rooms filled with COVID patients, I'd have never been seen in time and would almost certainly have died from a recurrence.

And I do miss my grandkids and the rest of my family. And I know Keith has missed his. This has been a wonderful, fearsome, intense experience, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. It has been, literally, the Adventure of a Lifetime.

But now it's over, and it's time to go back.

First, however, I have to weeks to get Keith packed and off, the dogs travel arranged, the car and Zach's truck prepared for shipping, and packing my own stuff.

The Adventure continues!