Beach Bum Barbie

I sit outside the gate to the community I'm thinking of moving to. I'm waiting for Barbara to come so she can open the gate and show me the place. While I wait, I think to myself that the last thing in the whole world I want to be doing right now is moving again.

I had given myself to the end of May to find a new roommate to replace Shannon, who is going in a different direction. I had one nibble, but she chose something else too. So the search has begun in ernest again.

I have to be out by June 30. With any luck, I'll be long gone by then. I searched a site Shannon told me about--brevardmls.com. It gives listings of local real estate for sale or rent by private owners. It's where Shannon found the place we're in right now.

I had printed off about 20 pages of rental listings the other night and started sifting through them for closest to price range and best match for my needs. I picked the top 5, and of those decided to call from the top of the list down. I wasn't sure the first pick would be available -it's been out there a couple of months.

I called the nunber to the realor's office and was put into Barbara's voice mail. We played phone tag for a couple of days and finally caught up yesterday.

I watch about four or five cars pull up and pass through the gate. Eventually a convertible pulls up with a very tanned, very bleach-blonde woman driving. Her hair is in a ponytail on one side of her head. I an instantly transported back to the late 70's - early 80's. I am a young teen wearing my hair pony tailed on one side like a disco queen and I am in my sister's high heal sandals and flowing white dress.

Barbara shows me the place but is clearly more interested in showing me another one elsewhere that is a little larger. We go look at it and she explains that it isn't even listed yet - the previous tenant moved out just this past week. I can tell - they haven't even had the cleaning crew in yet. The previous tenant left things in quite a shambles. It has a couple of things I like, but looks like more work would be required to make it liveable than I have time to wait for. "They'll fix what needs to be fixed," Barbara replies ot my observation.

It's more than cosnmetic in this one, I think. I call her this afternoon and leave a message. "The first one requires a lot less work to get me in and comfortable. Let's look at it again." We agree that I will call tomorrow and set an appointment for after work. I am hopeful.