Sometimes things fall together instead of falling apart

When I'm on a roll at work, like I was on Wednesday, I sometimes resent that the store closes at 6 p.m., forcing me to go home.
After I've had a day off, (yesterday, Thursday), however, sometimes I don't want to face the chaos again, as I will do today, Friday.

I'm going to go into work a little late this morning, anyway, and blog a bit here about what's been going on for the past ten days. They've been intense.

I. Leaping Before Listening

To begin with, last week I almost rented an apartment of my own. 

A studio came open in my friend Julia's building--a beautiful old (1920s) brick building. It was expensive, or, . . . well, market rate, but that's expensive after 18 years of paying "friend rate" rent–– $500/month for everything, including laundry and wifi––(that's how I can afford to work part-time on minimum wage); 
and rents in this town are objectively expensive too: 
$845/month + some utilities for this one-big-room with mini-kitchen studio.

The attraction of living alone was so strong, I applied for it. I even put down a deposit. 
I only backed out because the NOISE was worse than the rent--the apartment overlooked one of the busiest streets in town. When I went back to look at it at rush hour, the traffic roared like a train.

The experience was a bit traumatic. I lost my deposit (what a racket rental-property owners run!) and the manager gave me a hard time (ridiculous!) about backing out.

This all forced me to see I've been a bit of a chicken--I've avoided talking with HouseMate about what I want/need, living here––mostly, more quiet time alone.

II. Sometimes People Listen

I hate (am afraid of) conflict;
I hate (dread) making requests that might be unwelcome; 
I don't like asking for help, etc.
But what are the options? Resentfulness that arises from a feeling of powerlessness. That's worse than facing my fears!

So I did.I thought HM might feel rebuffed if I asked for time alone, but when I brought it up, she was receptive and helpful.

When I came back from Duluth, I said I was overwhelmed with social input. The trip was great, but due to how hard it was to get around in wintertime along Lake Superior, Mz and I spent hardly any time apart. 
At home, I'm either at work, which is zooey, or out with friends in public, or at home with a roommate after 17 years of (mostly) living alone. (And I rarely have the place to myself for more than a few hours.)

As soon as I said all this, instead of being reactive, HM came up with a great idea:
"Let's do a check-in in the evenings," she said, "and you can say if you just want to be quiet."

Well.
That was easy.

The other thing was--the classic issue between people who live together--house cleaning. It was HM who brought it up a couple days after we'd talked about time alone:
She said she felt guilty that I do more cleaning that she does. (True.)

So we talked about how to divvy up the chores.
Wonderfully, and sort of weirdly, she likes washing the dishes (finds it calming, she said), which I dislike,
while I actually kind of like cleaning the bathroom, which she hates. (I think there's something satisfying about restoring order and cleanliness there, even if it's an illusion--but then, why doesn't that satisfaction come from doing the dishes too?)

The ease of this was . . . almost a let down. 
You know how that goes? 
You get all puffed up with the hot air of fear, and then the solution is so chill, so lacking in resistance, you end up feeling like a deflated balloon.
What was all that fear about?

It's rooted (I'd say) in personal history--not just mine, but the people's around me, all my life. I don't think most of us learned how to identify what we want and need, much less ask for it in trust that we would be listened to with calm respect.

That's not just paranoia: that ("the lack of being listened to with calm respect") has frequently been my experience.
And I know it's been HM's too (even more than mine), and she and I have had a little friction about some household stuff, so, yeah, I was afraid to try to bring up potentially touchy topics. (Personal space and cleanliness can be hot spots, eh?) 

I don't know... 
I guess the timing was right, for some reason, and the whole thing was open and friendly. Kudos to both of us!

Whew.
It could be a model for the future: "Remember that time everything came together effortlessly?"

III. Don't Over-Promise

Maybe I'm in a slipstream of ease--but it's not just accidental. I'm pleased that I have (eventually) acted differently than I might have in the past, like sending my sister a present instead of taking offense at her brushing me off.

One of the most helpful things I've learned in life is,
 Don't over-promise.

It's like George Washington's brilliant advice about war:

Don't get into one.

Once you're in one, he said, it's almost impossible to get out except by going ahead. You can't hardly back out.

Or, if you can back out, it's expensive (emotionally, or financially) to back out of something you've jumped into, as I just experienced with losing the deposit I'd too hastily put down on an apartment that I hadn't thoroughly checked out, an opportunity I'd jumped at because I wanted to avoid the difficulty of negotiations with another person.

But I'm proud to say that this week I avoided getting overly involved with the good idea of a new cashier at work (a different one, a woman). 
A couple days ago, she brought up the idea of the store applying for grants. I told her it was a terrific idea, but I'd tried to get it going last year and became so frustrated, I'd given it up.

She has experience with grant writing, which I don't, and she said she'd like to try again.
"Great!" I said. "I'd be happy to talk to you about it."

That evening, she emailed me, "Yes! Let's do it!"

I wrote back that I don't want to do (and not coincidentally am not good at) committees and project management and all that side of business, so I couldn't commit to "doing it", but I would, I repeated, be happy to talk further about it.

We'll see if she gets further than I did (which was pretty much nowhere at all).

And now, off to work!