My sleep pattern has been way off these past few days.
I keep waking up earlier and earlier. Part of this has to do with these ugodly hours I am having to keep lately, flying back and forth from NY to Florida every couple of weeks.
I wake up, say, at 2 or 3am, and I start to think about what I have to do that day. These are the night moves I make, playing out everything before doing anything.
This is one of the most crucial periods of my life. Decisions I make now are critical; I can’t afford to make stupid or careless mistakes. There aren’t going to be any do-overs.
So far, so good.
Last week, I signed a contract on a house in Fla. All-cash deal. When most people my age are downsizing, I’m going contrarian. I figure my wife and I can do with a taste of the good life, after living 20 years in a sardine can, surrounded by unpleasant, rube neighbors.
The kicker for me is the complete privacy of the new place. Since, as a general rule, I basically can’t stand most people, our new, secluded FL house is a dream come true.
Later today, a real estate agent is coming by, at 10am. I want to put the NY house on the market as soon as possible, as in by Monday. If it sells at what I think it’ll go for, the net proceeds should pay for the FL house, and then some.
I’m also going to unload the 2018 Subaru Impreza that I own up here. I’m going the Carvana route on this: with eveything else that’s going on, I don’t need the hassle of selling it direct.
So that’s two major things I have to take care of over the next few weeks, before I return to Florida for good, and close on the new place, after which I’ll have to fix and sell the sardine box we’ve had to live in for 20 years, after life overnight kicked us in the face post the dot com crash and eventually almost killed me. Literally.
But I survived.
And now I wake up in the middle of the night and play out my night moves.
I just booked a free ticket for the New York Public Library’s performance of a capote/warhol play next Thurday evening.
Culture is what I’m going to miss about Manhattan, where I lived for some 20 years, since the only culture in Florida that I’ve noticed is agriculture.
In the meantime, I’ll be taking as many bites out out of the Big Apple before bidding her adieux.
It ain’t over, till it’s over.