Hell Week

“Voices, a thousand, thousand voices.
Whispering, the time has passed for choices.
Golden days are passing over, yeah.” –Ozzy Osborne

Before Hell Week started, someone asked me, “why do you want to buy a house? It’s so much easier to rent. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

There was only one answer.


Bottom line.

There wasn’t a chance I was ever renting again.

In twenty + years, since becoming a parent, I’ve “occupied” fourteen different residences, not counting one night in the car. One location was only for a week, before tearing up camp like a band of gypsies and traveling elsewhere. Another location, was across the driveway, on the opposite side of a cul de sac.

Picking up a box, walking it out the door, across a yard, and dropping it on another floor one hundred feet away. Back across the yard, grab the mattress, walk across the yard, drop on the floor… repeat. I was quite the spectacle to the surrounding neighbors that day.

Permanence. It was needed.

Getting a sixty day eviction notice at the height of a pandemic, after nine years of occupancy, was one of the best things to have happened to me/us, in years. Hands down. No question.

Before moving on, my apologies to the regular readers, supporters, and subscribers. You are amazing and without you, I wouldn’t be doing these random posts about my life. It’s been a strange couple of months, and I’m now just returning to normalcy, or some semblance of normalcy. More frequent posts are forthcoming. If there’s one thing I was missing over the past month, was writing. When I’m not actively plattering across a keyboard, I feel hollow inside.

I must keep that addiction fed. Especially now… more than ever.


Nothing really surprises me anymore.

However, I did manage to surprise myself.

I was given a sixty day time period to make a concrete decision. Two paths to choose from. What occurred during those 60 days, is something I can’t truly describe. Magical. Supernatural. I’m amazed at what I was able to accomplish over a two month period.

It changed me.

In a lot of ways, the cards were dealt in my favor. At one point I was told, “you have someone, or something, looking out for you.” I was afforded certain opportunities that fell into my lap, and managed to network with the right people. I never borrowed a dime from anyone. The seller left behind more tools, work stations, and equipment than I can count. I walked out of closing with a check in my pocket.

And landed in a four bedroom ranch only four miles from my last place.

And… here I will remain.

Having worked in the steel industry for a number of years, I’m quite familiar with the tools and equipment I now have at my disposal, I’ve just never really had a need for them, being a tenant for so long.

I plan to use them to the best of my ability, and if I make a mistake, I’ll start over until its done right. Whatever I may lack in skills or knowledge, I have access to a few good folks who may be able to be of service, or allow me to learn from, if needed. YouTube doesn’t hurt either. I plan to purchase some material over the next couple of weeks to begin construction on my very first office, in the corner of my cavernous basement.

It’ll double as the game room, and lounging area. I’m quite excited. It’ll have a mid-eighties/early 90’s vibe. Maybe a bean bag chair, classic gaming system… ahem… anyway. Super excited.

But, damn it all, what a fight to get here. By far, the most stress I’ve ever endured. A true test of resilience.

At first, I had doubted the entire process.

There’s no way you can pull this off. You don’t have it in you. Stick with the devil you know. There’s a rental close by somewhere.

No. F%$# that action. I’m all done dealing with the devils. I’m all done with the self-doubt. The nay saying. I’m all done pretending I “don’t have what it takes” and I can’t go another day believing something to be impossible.

My first clue, that everything was happening just the way it was supposed to, was a close friend gave me a brand new laptop three days into the eviction. My old laptop was on it’s last leg, and out of the blue, I received the free offer.

The connection with my realtor, is something quite unique. We share similar stories and life events, graduated from high school together, and his mother was one of my teachers.

My lending officer, was good buddies with my old landlord.

The Underwriter only required a handful of items from me.

All the timing was spot on, or ahead of the game. Each and every hurdle was plowed over. The tactics and strategies were fun to navigate.

The home itself checked off all the boxes on the list.

Most of the moving boxes are still sitting in a back room, unopened, but this is a static environment, and we’ll get it all set up… someday. No rush at this point. My wife is out like a light, and unpacking will have to wait. She’s pretty meticulous and I don’t want to screw up her aesthetic vision.

Around day thirty of the packing process, half way through the eviction, I receive the final edits back for my novel. One day after the two year anniversary of it’s first rough draft.

Three weeks of packing, cleaning, stacking and sorting. Working the 40 hours… Then, one week before closing, Hell Week.

Other than the large furniture moved by professionals, I managed to move nine years of stuff, inside a Prius. I was allowed access to the garage to store our stuff safely. The only monkey wrench in the entire thing, was the heat. Oppressive. Literally pushing through a stifling wall of humidity. Breathing hot, wet air, for hours. The sun… brutal. Sweat dripping off the hair and soaking the clothing.

It was the worst week ever. Literally painful. Fighting through my own personal Hell. And it was indeed Hell. All I could do was keep reminding myself with each dragging step, “All this is happening for a reason. Just one more step. Just one more box. Just one more day.”

Four days… in Hell.

Sometimes we have to muscle through our own personal Hell, to find a little slice of Heaven. It’s never a walk in the park. It’s never easy.

I find that the reward can be worth the struggle sometimes. And sometimes… we may just surprise ourselves with what we can achieve.

More information is on the way hopefully sooner than later, but I’m ready to reveal the title to my debut, science fiction novel. It’s been a labor of love over the years, and has absorbed an enormous amount of my energy, but it was energy worth expending. It’s been through its various gambit of edits: developmental, copy, line, and is now complete. I’ve been communicating with an artist for the cover work, and I can’t provide an exact date at this exact moment but, The Truckstop at the Edge of the Universe is coming soon, and I’ve never been more excited. Could be a few weeks? A couple of months. Can’t say for certain. Still some hurdles to plow over, but I can say confidently… soon.

I’ll continue to post updates here, as I have them.

Thank you for reading and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

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