These are my low mileage, unrestored Mopars.

1978 Chrysler Newport just hit 30k miles

1966 Belvedere II with 49k miles

I got slapped at work this weekend. It didn’t hurt me physically, but it surprised me, and I seem to have attached a lot to it.  I walked away.  If I get slapped, that’s going to be the end of the conversation. You see, I just don’t accept it. It’s kind of a boundary, I guess. 

Four months after I sold my old house, I heard through a friend that the new owner had an issue with a sewer clean out in the basement. I’d paid a lot of money to have the basement waterproofed prior to selling it. I’d never had THAT problem. The buyer had gotten an inspection and an appraisal. All contingencies had been met, the money changed hands and the sale was closed. I then closed on my new house. The money is spent, and I have nothing to add to the situation. It’s a done deal. It is closed. 

I had felt manipulated by the sale process. The realtor was a dual agent, but was far more interested in the buyer than in me, the seller. 

Here’s how it went down: The buyer made an offer, and I accepted it with the contingencies of inspection and appraisal. I knew this was an exit strategy, so I believed the buyer would walk away. 

Agent texted me about lowering the price. I asked if this would be written as a counter offer. I was informed that the buyer wanted the agent to feel me out informally.  I informed the agent that I would just stay there, and goodbye. 

Next thing I knew, my phone pinged that I had documents to sign. All contingencies had been removed and the offer I accepted was going through. 

The house I wanted was suddenly not available, so I made an offer on my second choice. I had to move. I was bound by the purchase agreement I had previously accepted. 

Great!

I moved out during a blizzard the day before New Year’s Eve.

I’m not talking to the agent or his broker, because I don’t want to, and as I have said, I have nothing to add. 

Years ago, when I subdivided that property and sold the building next door, the city made me put in my own designated sewer line that was not connected to anyone else, so that is what I believe I had. 

I had no reason to be slapped at work, and I have no reason to have to keep reliving the manipulative way my house was sold. It is closed and I’m not answering the door. 

I’m taking an unpopular (with certain people) stand in a Child Protective Services case.   How can someone like me take custody of a baby?  I’m a 63 year old single Grampa with a full time job. I live in a town where I haven’t yet built my community. It’s just me. 

I won’t quit my job. Even if the county provides daycare, what would my life become?  Get up earlier to take the baby to daycare, work all day and then pick her up from daycare just to do it again the next day and the next day and the next day and the next day?  When she graduates from high school, I will be in my 80s. This is not feasible or sustainable. So another boundary. 

The takeaway is I respect myself enough to care for my best interest. To put my own oxygen mask on before I assist others. 

I think I understand the sayings “Don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining” and “Poor decisions on your part do not constitute an emergency on my part.”

I’ve worked very hard to get where I am, and I will continue to do so. 

I have empathy. I am an empath. I care deeply and genuinely for my friends, family and those whose life I enrich at work. It is not kind or helpful in the long term to enable others.  I do what I can, and will continue to help where it makes sense to me to assist. 

I don’t plan to destroy myself in the process.