It took my Daughter only a day to mourn over not getting her transfer application accepted to the 4 year university in Richmond she's been aiming for.
Letter came on Friday; Friday night it was tears, anguish and a sense of abject failure, compounded by the ex-wife's "I told you so's"; by Saturday she was scouring Craig's List for apartment rentals (for the upteenth time) with the idea of moving down there, enrolling in the community college near VCU, and applying again for the Spring 2013 semester.
By Saturday night she texted me, asking me to go with her to check out a place. And what a place it was; a 2 story walk-up in a VCU department building, right on the edge of campus, and only 10 blocks from the community college. Not the Taj Mahal by any standards, it was clean, well lit and appeared to be in a safe neighborhood. She plunked down the security deposit and the pro-rated August rent and suddenly things were looking up again.
My Daughter has a gambler's luck when it comes to making last minute plans work. She's taking the first load of her possessions down tomorrow, and will be fully moved in by the time classes start on Monday.
All she needs to do now is find a job to have spending money.
What she also needs to do is stop contributing to my receding hair line. I'll be talking to her about a "Plan B", which will consist of a second, and probably a third choice of schools to apply to transfer to, and not put all her eggs in one basket, nor waiting till the last minute to get things done.
This current situation is the best possible outcome. Her mother had set a deadline of August for her to get into a 4 year school, or she was kicking her out of the house. No matter that my Daughter has done everything she could to make it happen; no school, kicked out. The stress and mental pressure that has put her under is incredible.
My ex-wife has never been to college; she has no concept of the difficulty in getting in, especially when one has sabotaged their high school transcript, and didn't fully apply herself her freshman year like my Daughter did. All those things are totally my Daughter's fault, but she has been struggling to correct those mistakes ever since.
I'll save describing Medusa (ex-wife, mother of my children) for another post.
This one is just a simple blowing off of pent-up tension, and a huge sigh of relief that my Daughter will be able to escape the incessant torments of Medusa, and at least is once again, taking a step in the right direction.
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