When I moved into my current apartment back in March, there was enough drama involved that it prompted me to pull out my tarot cards and do a few readings. In each reading, one theme stood out boldly: the Ace cards. For whatever reason, I kept drawing Aces. The Ace of Cups, Ace of Wands, Ace of Pentacles...
Aces generally indicate a birth. Fertility. Pregnancy. Huh?
Well, they must be symbolic of a creative birth, perhaps? For myself, or Hubby? There was no way it could mean a literal birth, of that I was certain. Perhaps this new apartment would inspire us to grow creatively. Yes, yes, that must be exactly what it symbolized. What on earth could it possibly mean otherwise?
My favorite Beatle once said, Life is What Happens to you while you're busy making other plans. You weren't kidding, John. Two months later, I was pregnant. Not with some creative new idea, either- with a baby. A real, live baby. One afternoon I was sitting on a bench in Copley Square when I spontaneously decided that I was ready to have a baby. Thankfully, it turned out Hubby was, too. A week later, I was pregnant. Go figure!
Another thing that stands out clearly in my mind are the two cards I pulled as the "outcome" of us moving into the apartment. I drew the Strength card, which depicts a woman gently taming a lion; a card I always associate with my mother because she inevitably ends up drawing it whenever I do a reading for her. The other card I drew? The Tower.
The Tower?! Ugh, not The Tower again. (No offense, Tower.) The Tower, well, it basically depicts a burning, flaming tower. On some decks, there's a man falling from the burning tower. Its meaning is pretty much self explanatory: it symbolizes upheaval, starting over, forced change and renewal, the rug being ripped from under one's feet, the overthrow of existing conditions, new opportunity. It's a fresh start, whether you like it or not, although usually it stems from some inner desire to break free. You get the general gist. But hadn't that been what we'd just gone through when we moved into this place? Hadn't we paid men to hoist our furniture up over the balcony on pulleys? Hadn't all my cousins cursed me out whilst going up and down three flights of stairs with boxes and boxes (and boxes) of my belongings?
Weren't Hubby and I through with upheaval, just for a little while?
Now, I know as well as anyone that we humans are blessed with free will, and fall as they might, the cards we draw in life are never fully set in stone. The Strength card gave me confidence that things would turn out beautifully, and yet...I couldn't get that pesky burning tower out of my head. Nine months later, I understand its meaning entirely. Because we're moving. In less than two weeks. And even though we haven't even moved yet, this hasn't been an easy, simple thing; no- it's pretty much felt like tumbling from a burning tower.
Our landlord, ever the lunatic, generously offered us a release from our lease, probably because she was fed up with us asking her for basic things every renter should have. (Lights in the hallway, perhaps? Fixing a hole in the wall? Fumigating for flea infestation?) She told us we could leave early, without penalty, because she knew we were about to have a baby. When we told her two weeks later that we'd found a new place, she decided 27 days notice wasn't good enough. She needed 30. Of course, she'd made no mention at all about needing 30 days prior to this. She'd only told us we could break our lease without penalty.
For being 3 days short of giving her 30 days, she wanted us to pay her a full month's rent. She was even legally entitled to this. (She hadn't returned my emails asking what she'd like us to do about December's rent, seeing as we'd already paid her a deposit of the last month's rent when we initially moved in.) I never dreamed she'd cash December's rent check, and since she wasn't responding to me, I put a stop payment on it.
Now I understand why she wasn't responding. It turns out she was planning on cashing that check all along, as well as planning on keeping our last month's rent deposit as penalty for giving only 27 days notice! She wanted us to pay a month's rent for an apartment we wouldn't be living in.
Did I mention we wouldn't even be moving if she hadn't told us it was okay?
Did I also mention I'm 34 weeks pregnant?
I rattled off a careful email, asking her why she told us, out of the blue, that we could move in the first place with no penalty. Why mislead us? The way I saw it, we had a few options: pro-rate her the three days rent and return the five bucks for the stopped check. Stay until our lease runs out in April. Sublet the apartment. Or, lastly, let it play out in court. (I thought that last suggestion had a nice little dramatic ring to it.)
I also wrote that I'm about to have a baby and that this stress is something I really didn't need right now. I told her my entire pregnancy had been marked by a lot of stress, all of it a direct result of being her tenant. There was more I wrote, but I ended up deleting it. Like how I spent over $600 on vet bills because her building was filthy and infested with fleas. Like how her realtor screamed at me and made me cry at work, after I told her I felt I was "getting the run around" because the apartment was dirty and full of someone else's belongings when we tried to move in. Or how that wack job down stairs refused to turn on the hallway lights, or lock the entryway door. Or how...
I deleted all that though. My mother always told me I could catch more flies with honey. To state that I'd been stressed out would simply have to suffice.
It still really chapped her ass, though: "You mention being stressed," she wrote. "I have never had tenants that have been so difficult and caused me such stress as you and your husband have!!!"
I have no words, Reader. I honestly have no words. All I can say is in the end, the crazy bitch is letting us go. And thank God for that. (And the Blessed Mother, and Saint Jude, the saint of hopeless cases, whom I was desperately pleading to in my wretched, sad, hormonal state.)
We are leaving! And here's hoping I never have to think about that woman, her stupid cousin downstairs, or her stupid cousin's feral cats ever again! (That was something I deleted from my email as well. I really wanted to leave it in, but perhaps it was going a little overboard.)
After reading her response, in which way she plainly made herself out to be the victim, my shaking fingers desperately wanted to rattle off a nasty email of my own, listing all of the weird, sometimes disgusting things we've had to deal with while living in her building. I wanted to tell her how many times she'd literally made me feel sick, hopeless and stressed out of my mind. But the truth of the matter is we've gotten what we wanted, and my ego can take a little hit for that. So she thinks we're assholes. Whatever.
The Strength card is the 8th card of the Major Arcana. It's also the corresponding card that goes along with my due date, January 26th (2 + 6 = 8), also the day after my mother's birthday. It implies deep belief and implicit trust in oneself and one's strength. Not the masculine, raw courage type of strength, mind you; but instead the feminine, internal type of fortitude that can only come from trusting one's intuition and wisdom. A strong person doesn't need to exercise control over others. Instead of fighting the beast, one tames the beast inside oneself, seizing control of his or her destiny and overcoming all obstacles.
Okay, so I'm not going to write her a nasty response. I'm not going to write anything at all, in fact. (I suppose that is what this blog is for. Haha!) We're moving, which is what we've been hoping for all aong.
Today is my 32nd birthday. I can't think of a nicer birthday present than being allowed to move into a clean, very large apartment and setting up a lovely nursery for my little boy. Incidentally, when Hubby asked me, for the umpteenth time, what I wanted for birthday, something miraculous and beautiful occurred to me. I didn't want anything. In fact, I wanted nothing at all. I patted my stomach and told him I already had what exactly I wanted. And I really, really meant it.