Our homeowners insurance has dropped us--it's not our fault. It's something that South Floridians go through every few years or more. Most of the homeowners insurance companies down here you wouldn't have heard of. The companies with really good ratings want nothing to do with us.
So, because we were dropped, we had to get 2 types of inspections, and yesterday was the day the home inspector came. The good news: the house is in good shape. The bad news: that good shape may or may not have anything to do with our ability to get good insurance at good rates. This problem isn't going to get any better, and the only unknown is the pace at which it becomes worse.
We had a chat with the home inspector, the same chat we've been having for years now with just about everyone in South Florida: is now the time to sell?
The home inspector said, "Oh, yeah, you've got to get out of Florida." My spouse and I both heard him ordering us to sell and get out of the state. Upon further reflection, we wonder if he meant that one can only really sell if one is ready to leave the state. We went on to talk about his buddy who moved and all that he could purchase in a place like Tennessee.
When the home inspector left, we spent the rest of the afternoon talking about options. The options haven't changed, and I'm not sure our positions really have changed. My spouse loves the house, but he wants not to lose the option of getting money back out of it. It would be an easier decision if he was willing to stay with the house until it washes into the sea, and my fear is that the day that it washes into the sea may not coincide with death. I don't want to deal with the aftermath of it all. My inner apocalypse gal has been screaming that it's time to get out of South Florida, and if we're moving, I want to move to a place where I have a head start on community--that means the Carolinas or eastern Tennessee.
In the meantime, I'm making plans for seminary housing. On campus housing is cheap and furnished. There's also an option for intentional communal housing, but I've decided not to go that route. In my younger years, I'd have gone that route, but these days, I'm in a more monastic cell kind of mindset. This shift intrigues me. I've requested a one bedroom apartment.
I have a vision of arriving at seminary with my sourdough starter, some musical instruments, and my markers.
Yesterday we transplanted seedlings. We've been growing plants from seeds that we've collected from plants we've been growing. Everything I researched told me that we would not be able to grow milkweed from seeds, but we gave it a try, and now we have 30 seedlings. We did the same thing with peppers, cilantro, and dill. We'll continue to house them as long as we can.
The future seems murky with possibilities.