Part 6 - Speed Bumps

I want you to hold these two ideas for a moment: today was not a good day; speed bumps exist for a reason.

We are apartment hunting abroad from a 33 m2 temporary accommodation (imagine an AirBnB that can be used for immigration purposes). Our bags take up a few of them. Others are opened like clamshells so that they can fit under the bed, doubling as pull out dresser drawers. A countertop with a built-in two burner stove, a sink, and just enough room for a uselessly small cutting board take up a few more. There are some IKEA style highchairs opposite the sink and burner that don’t fold, meaning they always take up the same obnoxious amount of space. An entertainment stand with a 40" TV, a nice two cushion couch, an ottoman big enough for Bubbas to sprawl, and a coatrack-as-wardrobe (complete with 10 hangers) round out the living area on one side of the counter. The other side opens directly on to the feet of the queen bed, then two swinging doors you might recognize from a spaghetti western “separate” the toilet from the rest of the space. I think it’s feasible to hock a loogie from the toilet and land it on a saute pan with the morning’s eggs. Glorious.

You imagined that with a significant eyeroll. It’s warranted, but the space does have a sort of magic. We don’t mind small living spaces. We’ve made several enhancements that make the space cozier. We’re tidy with our fridge space and diligent about washing the dishes and keeping them away. Small space makes for small messes. And we’ve been living out of these particular bags for several months already. What’s a couple more weeks?

The unit itself is 33 m2 (how the Europeans indicate square meters), but it’s paired with a private “garden” of about 20 m2 that makes it feel much bigger. We’ll be ready to move on to our next foreign accommodation, but as I said, this place does have a piece of magic. It’s the first challenge we had to solve together after arriving. It’s our first home across an ocean. We made a terrifying decision to uproot. We tended the soil, prepared the plant for some cuts, took the saw to our existing life, and landed here. And the roots we brought with us are spreading into new soil. Magic.

So anyway, back to the top. Today was not a particularly good day. It started with my 6:38AM arrival at a park that opens at 7:00AM. It’s amazing how little attention one pays to signage when doors are open upon arrival (or maybe lack of retention is the amazing thing; I distinctly remember examining that sign multiple times). After the walk, Bubbas and I bustled out the door last minute to walk Addie to the bus. She almost missed it even though she sat around the “house” for 30 minutes waiting to leave. Then I went to work on an application packet for housing and generally anxiety-spun my way through a relatively deep life to-do list.

The anxiety-spins were interrupted by a phone call from our real estate agent telling us that everything we did this weekend to scout was a waste of time and our only viable option is a two-bedroom unfurnished apartment in the boonies. This started its own anxiety spins about ordering furniture and when it might arrive and how I might load it in a vehicle and whether I should rent a vehicle and if so how big and how I’d get the furniture up into the unit and who I might contact to help me load and unload and configure because I don’t have any friends here and… I think you get the picture.

Everything above was drafted on a Monday. Despite my commitment to writing everyday, Tuesday slipped through the cracks. Too many balls in the air, too many details to be managed back home and here, too many chores to make this tiny apartment feel like home for Addie when she gets home from work. That’s okay. We’ll soldier on. What follows is my best attempt to tie off Monday’s lessons as I glance back in time.

Addie texted me later in the day, freaked out about having messed up a task at work, “I’m freaking out that we left our home that had room for the baby. I could have enjoyed being pregnant.” We’re here instead. What are we doing?

I wrote back. “Take three deep breaths. Baby is going to survive here. We are going to survive here. Take three deep breaths. Do the next thing right.”

I opened a note and wrote a summary of what I needed the real estate agent to know. I messaged him. He called. I told them him that we really were okay with a one-bedroom space, even though we have a large dog and a baby on the way. Really, truly. Bubbas, Addie, and I lived together in 740 square feet. The biggest space we’ve ever occupied together is a luxurious 1450 square feet. We can do it. With baby. I also told him we’re still waiting on our bank account and that I’m drafting our rental application to reduce friction. He was appreciative. He joked that if Addie really wanted a one bedroom place, then we could lease the two bedroom and hang a white sheet in from of the second bedroom door. Voila, a one bedroom.

About 90 minutes later, our real estate agent called back with a listing. A one bedroom. In the city center. Near parks. With a fast commute. With a grocery store nearby. Away from the seedy part of town. Voila, a one bedroom.

We go tour it this afternoon and I hope it works. If it doesn’t, we’ll be on to the stressful next. There’s a long line of stressful nexts waiting for us. That’s what we signed up with this challenge. We chose our hard so that we’ll be better equipped to answer the call when life throws detours at us. We signed up to change our psychological profiles and brain chemistry. We wanted to change our world views. To reshape how we decide what matters, who matters, why, and how much. Forever. And we’re going to do that work of changing every day because there is no alternative.

The summary lesson from the day was: if you’re stressed and lonely and freaking out, do something about it. Activate agency in your life. If you deploy directional effort consistently over a long time, the world will bend to your sustained will. That’s just physics. And if you get tired, or the world’s not bending, find a different angle. For more on this particular mental model, look up Shane Parrish. He’s an author/podcaster/thinker/creator that I admire. He’s written extensively on the importance of leverage and position over raw effort.

The secondary lesson from the day was: storm clouds pass. If a gray mood settles in the room, do what you can to cozy up. Get busy to distract yourself from the gray. If that doesn’t work, sit with the gray for a while. If that doesn’t work, busy yourself with something else. If you’re still stuck, think really hard about why for 10 minutes. Give yourself the freedom to feel all the existential yuck. Then eat something healthy and rest. Then work really hard again.

Those storm clouds in your mood might be acting like speed bumps in your neighborhood. The city planner in your subconscious might be telling you you’re moving too fast to be safe. They might be telling you to take three deep breaths and just do the next thing right. If you listen, the traffic jam of thoughts might resolve and order may be restored. And if that too doesn’t work, at the end of an exhausting day you can crack a beer with that city planner in your head. Close enough for government work.