Life has seemed frozen in time since the flood. Every day is a terrible day of waiting and praying. Of stress and fear. We're waiting for the HOA to begin the repairs. They have the money from the insurance company, and yet nothing has been done. Almost 8 weeks we've been waiting with concrete subfloors and holes in the walls and duct taped carpets.
The last time I spoke to the president of the HOA, he yelled at me in the parking lot. He told me if I didn't like what the board was doing, I should get a lawyer. So we got one. But it's a slow process, and nothing is happening. So we wait.
We're waiting to see whether the first floor neighbors insurance company will sue us. We can survive this if we don't get sued. If they sue us, put a lien on the house, we'll be sunk. I lay awake at night and worry, but I know it could be months, a year before we know what will happen.
I hate leaving the house because I'm afraid of running into my neighbors. I dread taking the dog out, taking the trash out, checking the mail. I hate being home, and I set our deadbolt against them. Don't ask me why.
Living in a condo is a terrible situation. Your biggest (or in our case, only) investment can be held hostage by some dude with a third grade education and a chip on his shoulder. I regret the day we first laid eyes on this place.
Time seems frozen, but it's not. Bean is growing and changing. She's talking like crazy, she dances and sings gibberish songs. She gives eskimo kisses and real kisses. She tries to ride the dog like a pony. She's a very different girl than she was even two months ago. Last night Husband and I realized that all we have at home are "baby" toys. We promised this weekend to go find her a truck, some blocks, puzzles. Real big kid stuff.
I'm trying my best to focus on Bean, and not on the mess our lives have become. She's changing so fast... if I don't pay attention I'm going to miss it.
FMB: Jobs, Part 2
1 week ago