You know how you have a picture in your head of what something will be like after you buy it, and then after you buy it, you realize it is nothing at all like they promised it would be? Like that InstaPot thing, for instance, that was supposed to make all our meals so healthy we would be size 2 in a matter of weeks. Or like those shoes with the toes that were supposed to make us run faster so we feel safe to finally run that marathon before we turn forty without totally embarrassing ourselves. Or like that move to a new state we were sure was going to transform us into a completely different somehow cooler person. That kind of mental picture.
I had this mental image that after I moved to Tucson, I'd go shopping at a mall or thrift store for a new summer wardrobe consisting of soft linens and cottons in dusky desert colors. I'd toss out all my old ratty t-shirts and baggy underwear and get clothes my sister would approve of. I'd get some espadrilles, with low heels, of course, or some leather huaraches in honor of my proximity to Mexico. I'd wear them with socks, of course, because well, I'm still an Oregonian, but I'd do it with pizzazz and panache.
I pictured myself wearing those new shoes while sitting on a deck or patio sipping iced coffee in the balmy shade, writing my novel on my new laptop. I envisioned myself driving my pristine white Dodge Caravan on adventures around the city, learning my way and finding the hidden gems that only the locals know. I imagined taking tours of apartment buildings, admiring their tubs and closets and basking in the endless supply of frigid air blasting from strategically placed air conditioner vents.
After three weeks in paradise, it is clear to me that in the matchup between dreams and reality, reality wins every time. It's the nature of reality to not be swayed, bribed, or otherwise influenced by the dreams we have in our tiny fuzzy heads.
Reality is a mixed bag. Yes, I sip iced coffee, but did you know coffee is a diuretic? I'd do better just drinking lots and lots of water. However, the water here tastes like chlorinated salty vinegar. I'm finding ginger and turmeric herbal tea makes a drinkable concoction when cold. My wrists are emaciated but my ankles are swollen, a weird combination that tells me I'm dehydrated and I have high blood pressure. I applied to move my Obamacare from Oregon to Arizona. Arizona Medicaid is unable to verify my identity. I am waiting for them to reject me so I can choose another health insurance company through the marketplace and find a primary care doctor. Hope I live that long.
On the bright side, the car is running great, except for the ubiquitous check engine light, which came on again despite spending $50 on premium gas. I should have known the mechanic-in-a-can remedy wasn't aligned with reality. Wishful thinking goes down for the count once again.
On another sunny note, I found an apartment I might want to live in not far from the trailer park. The property management company wanted an application first before they agreed to show me the unit. No doubt trying to weed out the losers. That is a good strategy on their part. I might be one of those losers, by their rulebook. My income is low and they will discover that I'm a credit history ghost. I'm pretty sure that is why Arizona Medicaid cannot verify my identity. As far as the credit agencies go, I don't exist. Oh, and I can't open a bank account here until I have a "permanent" address. I guess the banks have caught on to people living in UPS Store mailboxes.
On the brighter side, I have been working on my novel. Why not? It's way too hot to go out except to forage for food at a grocery store. Going shopping for clothes seems like an impossibly heavy lift. I have clothes but they are packed away under boxes in the storage unit. My entire life is in boxes in that storage unit. It's great I have all my stuff, and why did I pay to ship all that crap down here again? I'm forgetting why an IBICO machine was so precious to me.
Now I sound like I'm complaining, don't I? Well, I am. The joke is on me, for sure. The image I had in my head of a new life in Tucson is unfolding a little differently than I pictured. On the bright side, I'm sure I do not want to return to Portland. At least there is one place on the planet I know I don't belong. Meanwhile, I'm living a life I barely recognize in an amazing yet surreal trailer park in a beautiful yet strangely unfriendly city. Reality and wishful thinking bellying up at the bar.
