St. Johns, North Portland. Great place to live, Good neighborhood, surrounded by café’s and produce markets, parks and schools. Sitting in Ashland numb from getting three cavities filled, I stumble upon a spacious one bedroom in the heart of St. Johns. 18 Hours later I’m driving up to Portland for a showing. Turns out they had three places available all on the same block. All the same square footage and all the same price range. Saw them all and ranked them on my application in order of my preference. Problem was that in my commute to Portland, two others had seen the places and put in applications. Now there were three places and three applicants, the other two having beaten me to the punch.

            Got the call today that my first and second choices had been taken. Ouch. I’d been trying to prepare myself for that potential outcome but alas it came as quite a shock as I’d spent 4 days picturing myself in one of my two top choices. I am now, of course, focusing on accepting my third choice, a much more modern space with a dishwasher and a washer and dryer but with less natural light and a much less creative floor plan. In two days I’ll find out if that’ll be my home for the next year.

            In many ways I’m disappointed, equally or more so than I was when I realized the initial place I’d wanted in South East Portland was actually a little beyond my budget. At a fairly deep level I have the understanding that I cannot be too taken by my initial reaction to this news. Perhaps having a more modern, less creatively designed place will be exactly what I want. Or perhaps I won’t get the place and I’ll find something even better sometime in the future. For now, I sit in Eugene eating a waffle with bacon, havarti, basil and maple syrup and work to accept and appreciate all that comes, especially the mystery.