divine intervention or pushy lesbians?

I left my next move up to the universe and it worked; I got divinely intervened. The divine intervention first arrived in the form of Lesbian Couple #2. They are here to move into my space on March 23 when my year ends. They conveniently forgot our conversation in which I said that I might stay a month or two longer and they were "no problem, no problem. stay as long as you want. just let us know when we can move in." I could be a bitch and stay. Squatter's rights, according to Rosa who works in the office. And Rosa wants me to stay. But I merely responded to Lesbian Couple #2's pronouncement by saying "I guess you're my divine intervention."

And now it looks like I'll be meeting up with a couple of friends who plan on being in southern Arizona the end of March. Divine intervention numero dos.

There's a town near the bottom of Arizona that I had thought about moving to once before but the town never felt right, like we weren't a very good match. But that's where my friends and I will meet up so I'll bring my home along with me with the intention of hanging around for a month or so and giving the town another shot. If the town still doesn't feel right, I'll head on, maybe to another little town I like in New Mexico.

I'm being vague about the place I may go (and, as you can see, I've never actually named the place I am in). My last blog met its demise when too many people in and around The Home of Dashed Hopes got wind of it and I could no longer write honestly about them or myself. If I do continue to blog, and I most likely will, I don't want the same thing to happen.

Speaking of making moves, the Bartender's move didn't go so well. It took her nearly two months to find a job and by then she was down to $9.00 until her $123 unemployment check came in. The job she finally landed was a weeknight midnight to 8:00 a.m. bartender shift where the most she has made in tips is $55. When FEMA coughs up the money, she will move back to New Orleans.

The way the rental fell into her lap, she figured she was meant to be there. Apparently that wasn't so. Or did she somehow sabotage things by all along secretly wanting to go back to New Orleans? Who the hell knows? Spirit Guys, divine intervention, law of attraction, guardian angels - they may all be a crock of caca. But for now, because I can't for the life of me come up with a plan, I'm going with the divine interveners. We'll see how they do.