CHANGE IS STILL GOOD.

Peter and I have enjoyed our home for the past five years. We had been a team for nine years prior to living together. We both liked having our own space. Approaching cohabitation was a slow and deliberate process. Note: I did not say painful. I am happy to say it has worked out just fine for me. Peter says it has been good for him too.

The last two winters of shoveling our 40+-foot driveway, sidewalks and patio have convinced us that we are old men. We are not very old, just old. I get annoyed whenever some insecure ageist scolds me for saying this. "Oh. You're not old. You look great." My internal response is simple: You can put a new paint job on a 67-year-old Studebaker, but the axles are bound to break eventually. 

We're not whining our way to the boneyard by any means. We live active lives. We aren't obese. We're not sundown winos or potheads. We just have to lie down for a couple of hours after shoveling several tons of slushy snow for several hours in blasting cold. If that's how you get your jollies, fine. We're just over it. And we both reject the concept of moving South for many reasons. 

My few remaining friends and relations will laugh when they see our house listed for sale. I won't call anyone about it. I don't want to hear the snickering. You see, I've moved around thirty times in the past forty-six years. This will be my seventh property owned and sold. No, I'm no Oprah. I haven't owned more than one at a time.  As much as I hate the term, I could be seen as a flipper. The simple reality of it is that I have had to do this to stay out of poverty in this capitalist world. I don't relish it. Peter hates it. But nobody is giving out free concierge-managed housing to old gay codgers in my neck of the woods.

All this isn't the point of my essay, if it has a point at all. 

This past weekend, Peter and I took a room in a rather low-end chain hotel nearby. Visualize a two-floor structure built around an outdoor pool next to an interstate. We wanted to avoid having to repeatedly leave our house to make room for potential buyers and their agents. We are both far beyond kinky motel sex. I ordered a nonsmoker room with a single king-size bed so we could maximize our personal space while minimizing our expenditure. There we were with headphones plugged into our Android tablets. Each in his own digital universe. And it was good for us. Who would have imagined?

We did have to address our shared bedbug phobia. I bought two plastic drop cloths in the paint department of Home Depot. And, when we returned home, we stripped off immediately, washed all outer clothing and showered. I think we're clear. But I am still vigilant. I've read up enough on Cimex Lectularius to be wary. Its a persistent little bugger. 

The good part was the disruption in our predictable weekly routines. Now, some folks are still well enough to travel the world, but Peter and I have medical records which would rival a large-type version of War and Peace. We don't surrender our routines without a fight. But this hotel excursion seemed the lesser of two evils. Having a real estate agent show up with buyers in tow just when you've changed into your pajamas is far worse than having to step around the piled suitcases in a badly run hotel lobby.  

We did nothing particularly interesting outside the hotel either. We did go to a Matisse exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. Our dear friend Molly had sent us the tickets. They couldn't have been better timed. For one thing, we found out that Matisse also had trouble with collecting too much stuff. This was extremely pertinent to us in our current situation. We were so innervated by the experience of jousting with the other oldies at the exhibit that we even went to a Chinese buffet afterward. We will indeed pay the price for that feast in more ways than one, but it will be worth it. 

The lesson is that we aren't too old to do something different within our limitations. Change is still good. Of course, no living being has a choice whether to change or not, but embracing change is still better than just moaning about it or uselessly resisting it. That's my renewed opinion. Take it or leave it.