And You May Tell yourself / This Is Not My Beautiful House

A couple of months after I returned to my house, I started searching for an apartment.  Again, this was a decision move, not a forced move, and I wondered what outside force pushed me to action.  I think a threshold was reached and my brain told me "you have no choice."

I moved out in October.

My plan was to find a roommate, someone from the community who also needed a place to live and be herself.  I was unsuccessful.

I moved out as cheaply as possible.  I signed a seven-month lease, knowing that if I wanted to return to the house after that time it would be at the pleasure of my wife.  I couldn't just walk in and say "I'm back!  What's new?"

My wife suggested I take the living room furniture since we rarely use the living room.  I knew that meant she would like new furniture, but that was fine with me.  I bought a bedroom set.  I took bookshelves from the basement since they held my stuff.  I took my desk and chair and a card table and a couple of folding chairs and some kitchen utensils we did not use.  I bought a microwave and coffee maker.

I was still spending too much on an apartment and continued to look for a roommate.

Since her husband died last November, Charity had been talking about getting out of the house where he died, and getting out of Memphis, where she was living.

This is not what I was looking for, but we discussed her sharing my apartment (I have two bedrooms) and she moved in a month or so after I did.

I really would have liked some more time alone.  I like living alone, but I had already spent a bit of money and was anxious to, if not stanch, at least slow down the bleeding.

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Different Glasses.  Fem or Masc?