CondoMe, Part 3: The Clock Starts Tomorrow

I listened to kstyle, and put out the cider/water/soap mix, thus creating a fruitfly graveyard. And they were nearly gone! Except I must have left the garbage one day too long, and today it's a fucking infestation again. So, more graveyards, and no cooking, until they're all dead. They are completely fucking disgusting, and I am really sick of them.

As noted, Tuesday before my acupuncture appointment I signed and initialed a bunch of papers to put in a bid for the place I saw on Sunday. This morning my agent called to tell me the owners accepted my offer. Starting tomorrow, we have five business days to complete an inspection and have the lawyer do the title crap; the inspection is scheduled for next Wednesday morning. Then we do the rest of the paperwork--mortgage, closing date, etc.--but the dates on all the paperwork were in April, so I could, at least theoretically, acquire a whole bunch more debt, and a new place to live, within six weeks or so. It's kind of nuts, given that I only started thinking about doing this less than a month ago, but, hey, there it is.

There are still a lot of things that have to happen, of course, and more than a few places where things could fall apart, so I'm not exactly celebrating just yet, but I'm pretty fucking happy about it so far. A little while ago, I was wondering to myself whether it was too fast--i.e., that there might be a Better condo out there for me--and I realized that was pretty unlikely. There were a few things on my list that were must-haves, particularly the nice-sized kitchen, and the southern exposure for the rooms in which I will do my living (as opposed to sleeping). But it looks like maybe I ended up with three other things that were on my would-be-really-nice list--the sunroom, which is a total score, AND a little deck out back, as well as a window in my shower (I really like that, but it was not at all a must-have)--and a couple of things I didn't expect, like all the built-ins, the fireplace, and a second bathroom, not to mention a ton of closet space.

All at a reasonable price, in a building that is a half a block from the lake (east of Sheridan, for those of you in my city), well-managed, with good reserves. And the assessment includes, in addition to the usual, heat and cable. I know this neighborhood moderately well, and there aren't a lot of places like this one out there, at least not at a price I can afford. (Yes, I likely could have gotten a mortgage for some of the more expensive ones, but I knew ahead of time what I was comfortable spending each month--and, even though I'm actually going to be spending somewhat less than Chuck and I paid for the place we were renting downtown, four years ago, it's still a big check to write each month for someone who wasn't getting a comma in every paycheck a little more than two years ago.) So, I think it will be a great place.

I've already made two decorating decisions, the first of which is that I'm not going to rush to decorate. Even though I won't come near to using all the space in the place, I'm not going to buy much furniture until I've lived there for a little while and can see how I use the space. I need a comfy chair for the sunroom, but I have to think about what I want. I am going to take a tile-making class, so I can replace the wood backsplash in the kitchen with tiles--I'm going to design and sculpt and paint my own tiles. But otherwise? Dunno. I'll probably need a rug for the dining room. I'll likely use the bedroom with a rug as my "office," because it has carpet on it and I wouldn't have to worry about marking up the floor with the desk chair, plus it's a little oddly shaped and it might be difficult to fit a bed in there. I'm not yet sure where to put the rowing machine (and the TV I watch while rowing). And so on.

Did I mention that I have a fuckton of things to do before I'm really truly in a new space?

Eureka

Yes, indeed, I have found the place I want. When I saw it yesterday, it was nearly everything that I had suspected from the pics I'd found online. Entertainingly enough, the one thing it does not have? A laundry room that can be reached from inside the building. But we ended up running into two women in the laundry room and chatted with them for a few minutes, and they said that people go down in their pajamas to do laundry; it's down a set of back stairs, and, except for the going-outside part, and the steps-rather-than-elevator part, probably not terribly different from my current arrangement. It's not across a courtyard, for example. One of the women has lived in the building for 17 years and the other for more than 10, i.e., it's clear that people like living there. So, the agent will be submitting a bid for me tomorrow; we're meeting late afternoon and I'll start the process of initialing and signing things, including pieces of paper that transfer dollars to other people. (When you start thinking about it that way, it becomes ridiculous very quickly.)

While on one hand I very much would like this place, it has not become the least bit real to me yet. There are way, way too many things that have to happen, and, especially given the difficulties that other people I know have been having, I'm not celebrating until I have keys in my hand--or, more likely, until I am moved in. The reality is, if it doesn't work out for any of a number of reasons, I'll need to keep looking.

On the other hand, I've also started thinking about how I'd go about using the various spaces. I wouldn't have nearly enough furniture for the place, but I'm not worried about that; I'd prefer to live there (or somewhere else) for awhile before buying furniture. The backsplash in the kitchen is wood, so I'd start thinking about designing and painting some tiles so I could eventually replace that--that's the kind of thing that I can do over time (and, for that matter, might well be something I could no matter where I move). One of the bedrooms is a little oddly shaped and carpeted, so it would be useful as an office space, because I could put my desk and chair in there and not worry about scraping up a hardwood floor, and I could get a futon couch (one that's a little smaller than my current one), and, voila, office AND guest bedroom. Both bathrooms are nice--one has a big shower and no tub (which I like), and the other has a window in the shower/tub (which I love) and wonderful bright blue accent tiles. Both bathrooms are directly connected to the bedrooms. I would definitely need a nice comfy chair for the sunroom, so I can sit there and read or do needlepoint.

Etcetera.

I really cannot think about it too much--even as it's rather consuming--because there are just too many things that have to happen first.

Meanwhile, I'm going back to the beginning of two series of books: the Spenser novels, by Robert Parker, and the Parker novels by Donald Westlake (writing as Richard Stark). They're interesting on their own, but also juxtaposed. Parker, at least in the early novels, is a little bit outlandish so far, but it's such an interesting contrast to Dortmunder and Kelp, the two main guys in the comic crime novels by Westlake. Dortmunder and Kelp never killed anyone--occasionally someone got hurt or even died, but never at the hands of the main guys; Parker shoots people all over the place, at least in the first novel. (I read a later one as the first, and there was less of the shooting, so I'll see how the series plays out.) But Parker is also an interesting contrast to Spenser. They're similar types, just working on opposite sides of a line--and the line really isn't one about legality. I want to read a few more of each series before i develop that thought, though.

Finally, remember that Big Financial Crisis at my job? It has all but disappeared. The upshot, in many ways, is that the person who was waving hir arms around and setting hair on fire down--and up--the food chain has ended up discrediting hirself more than anything else. Which, really, is the best thing that could have happened. Or the second-best, anyway; the best thing would have been if s/he had bothered to include the rest of us in the process in real ways (rather than merely hand-waving, here-look-at-this-roll-up-never-mind-the-details ways). As with nearly everything else, the thing about budgets is that the devil really is in the details.

Stuff in Boxes

This morning I have the unusual prospect of a day at home with absolutely no plans to do anything. I have already done some basic tidying up and made some tea, but I have nothing else planned: no trips to the grocery store, no acupuncture or haircut appointments, no Big Projects around the house, no baking marathons. There are a few things I might do--baking, assembling papers for the mortgage approval process, doing my taxes, etc.--and I definitely plan to work out at some point. But I don't have to be anywhere at any time. As you know, I have a tendency to take a day like this and start filling it with errands and chores such that a day of relaxation becomes a relentless slog, typically involving buses and trains and carrying heavy bags, and I forced myself to avoid that for today. I'll probably end up being even more productive--or not.

As I prepare to move--even though I haven't found the place I want yet--I'm starting to look around my apartment with a more jaundiced eye (I wasn't sure that was possible, given the bile that replaces lifeblood in my veins . . .). There's a bunch of stuff I need to decide about: from where I'm sitting, for example, I can see a box of rubber stamps and (probably-dried-up) ink pads and glitter-dryer that I used to design my nephews' birth announcements and my solstice cards (for a few years, I hand-made holiday cards). The stamps are still good, but when will I ever use them again? Oh; right; never. (Unless I decide to stencil, decorate, or paint my new walls, which I could well decide to do; I saw something in the background of a shot of something i was watching that gave me some ideas.) Or how about that rechargeable-battery charger? I don't have batteries for it, because they were in a camera of Chuck's and he tossed them without looking at them. New batteries would certainly be a possibility, but will I actually do that? Dunno; maybe.

Or the endless pile of electrical cords and cables of various types, along with multiple dead cellphones. Photos that I've never sorted. A jump rope. Shoelaces from a pair of shoes that I finally tossed because there were holes in the soles (they're long shoelaces and still in fine shape). I know that the front closet has boxes I never opened when I moved here four years ago (can it really be that long?). There are piles of books in various locations--books I know I don't want to keep, but I cannot bring myself to throw out a book, so they need to be hauled to a used-book store, even if I don't get anything for them. Videotapes--and I no longer have a VCR. Albums--and I no longer have a turntable that works correctly. And so on.

Obviously I need to go through these things, preferably before I pay someone to move them to a new space, and I'll end up getting Friend or GirlFriend to help me haul away the things that someone else could still use. Really, I've known for four years that I needed to go through a lot of this stuff, and I've had fits of cleaning and sorting, but it always seemed like too much work, both physically and emotionally. And it still seems like a lot of work, and I know it will have its difficult moments. The last move was at least the second time in my life where I basically threw my stuff into boxes and moved--not because I particularly wanted to move, but because some upheaval was forcing me to do so. As a result, there are boxes of stuff that I (literally and figuratively) haven't opened since said upheaval.

On the other hand, if the timing moves quickly and I end up moving the shit with me, no big deal.

Anyway. I just managed to score two tickets to the Clapton Crossroads festival here in June. They supposedly have a "limited" view, but they are on the side of the stage--literally looking over the stage--so I think they're actually going to be moderately awesome, kind of like the supposedly limited view of the DMB concert last year that involved us standing next to the stage. That's not until June, though (what would have been my 5th anniversary, as a matter of fact, if I didn't suck at being married), and, with any luck, I will have moved into a fab new space by then.

CondoMe, Part 2 (now with extra ranting)

Saw six more places today, plus drove past a few more. One was seriously nasty, plus in a seriously unpleasant neighborhood, plus there were air mattresses around, suggesting to me that people had been crashing there; scratch THAT fucker off the list. A second one was a "garden" apartment, which, no. I lived in one of those, and they suck, plus, in the neighborhood in which I'm looking, I absolutely would not live in a place that's that accessible to the street. A third one was quite stunning--really, really beautiful, plus it had several of the features that I desire greatly (washer and dryer; southern exposure; sun room; nice kitchen)--but it, too, was sort of on the first floor; it's one of those buildings where the real first floor is sort of half above ground and half below, and the actual apartment is a flight of stairs up. In the winter, it's really bright, but the big trees outside mean that it's going to be pretty dark in the summer (and it's only a block south of where I live now, so I know whereof I speak). Still, if it had been on the third, or maybe even second, floor of the building, I probably would have pulled out the checkbook.

The fourth one was in the same set of buildings as number three, and was actually on the third floor, but was in crappy shape, plus no washer and dryer (you had to go down three flights of stairs to the basement) and one could not be added. The layout wasn't exactly the same as the first-floor unit, and, in fact, was kind of cramped. The fifth one was really nice--lots of nice light, well-laid-out, etc.--but had an electric stove (one of those flat-top models, so not as bad as it could have been) and the walls were painted these incredibly dark colors. The main living room had chocolate brown and dark turquoise walls; the kitchen had dark red walls; the bedrooms had intensely green walls. Yes, I know you can paint, but this would have been a major job, in every room--and, really, if it hadn't been for the stove, I would have overlooked the paint. The sixth place was quite nice--third floor, lots of floor-to-ceiling windows, nice kitchen and baths, washer/dryer, good condo association--but it only had eastern and western exposures. Still, I wasn't ready to cross that one off the list just yet; that one was probably the keeper from today's adventures.

All in all, we're getting closer, I think, which is encouraging, given that we've only gone out twice.

But that's not what I wanted to bitch write about.

While trying to find out about yesterday's earthquake (I didn't feel it), I stumbled across a CNN story about cell phones and the plans that companies are selling. Apparently, if I understood it correctly, voice plans are getting extremely cheap. Data plans--e.g., for "smart" phones like the iPod and Blackberries and other suchlike devices--range from cheap to notso. Most phones are "web-enabled," i.e., some kind of internet service is (at least theoretically) available, but not all consumers actually use those services, and it seems to be those people that the cell phone companies want to target.

It began with Verizon Wireless. Last month, that company began requiring certain non-smartphone customers to subscribe to a data plan that costs at least $10 per month. Mobile experts believe Verizon's move marks the first step in a larger trend to make up for carriers' lost revenue from voice. . . . Verizon said it began to require new customers who purchase so-called "3G multimedia" phones to subscribe to a data plan in part so that they could get the full functionality out of their phones. . . . It's not just about increasing revenue, say analysts. [Hah! says Narya.] Carriers are banking on the consumer-friendly aspect: phones are more fun and useful with the Internet.
"The 'naked aggression' reason is to boost revenue to offset declining voice revenue," said Charles Golvin, mobile analyst with Forrester Research. "But carriers also realize consumers won't get the enjoyment out of their devices without data."

In other words, if I get a phone that has internet capability, but I don't actually want to use that capability, I may get charged a fee anyway and be required to purchase that capability--because, according to the cell phone companies, I "won't get enjoyment" out of my phone without it. And, oh!, my phone will be "more fun and useful" if I have a data plan.

To which I say: Bite me.

It's true that I have a device--my iTouch--that has wireless capability, and I use that aspect sometimes, when I'm in a location where I can get free wireless. My phone at least theoretically has that capability, but I've never purchased the service. I get the occasional text, but I think I've received fewer than 10 in the last two years, and that is fine with me. I don't tell people to text me, and I think my company charges 40¢ or so per text I receive.

The thing is, I don't want that service, by and large. The main reason is that I am so. fucking. tired. of sitting with someone and having him or her checking the blackberry, checking the phone, texting away, scrolling around, whateverthefuck. I've been in meetings where a quarter to a third of the people are texting, reading email, sneaking peeks at their phones, etc., and I think it is incredibly rude. I don't bring a novel to read during the boring parts of the meetings (though I may start doing that, to make a point). And the people at these meetings are not dealing with life-and-death matters.

The first person I ever knew who had a cell phone--and it was the size of a brick--was a doctor who did organ transplants, and that made sense to me. For situations like that, time is most certainly of the essence, and being able to reach everyone involved at a moment's notice is really lifesaving.

And admittedly I like having a cell phone; I think of it as a more-convenient (and more-expensive) combination of phone booth and portable answering machine, and it's very handy, especially given the number of hours I'm away from my house. It makes certain kinds of navigation easier and enables connecting on the fly. For example when Friend (who resisted getting a phone until about six months ago, when he succumbed and got an iPhone) is coming back from cheeseland, if I'm going to go to his house, he'll call me when he's an hour or so away so I can begin my trek to his 'hood, i.e., we're traveling simultaneously, rather than in sequence. (He used to have to wait until he got home to call me.)

But I see so many people tied to their devices--tethered to them, obsessed with them, constantly checking them. I almost got run over the other night because some guy was checking a phone in his lap at the intersection instead of looking to see if anyone might be crossing the street. (I wish they'd really start fining people for this shit instead of passing laws and then not actually enforcing them.) Really, people; what's that fucking important? It's as though people are constantly checking to see if there's something going on that's better than the person or event in front of them--which, if you ask me, is a way to breed permanent dissatisfaction.

I also think these technologies are further eroding the ability of people to read or write longer documents. I realize I'm wordier than many or most people, and I find that depressing. Some things can and should be brief, but some things benefit from a more extended discussion, and people who are used to communicating in spurts of fewer than a couple hundred characters seem to lose the will to follow along. Not everything can be communicated in a splash.

I also do not like the notion of being constantly available, particularly with regard to my job--even when I'm at my job. If I'm in the middle of something complicated and detailed, I am not going to drop everything just because you have a question, especially if it's something that you could have looked up for yourself. That's always a balance, of course, because all of us have things that are pressing sometimes, but I think that the texting crap merely promulgates the notion that one is always available for any question.

Anyway, the point is, I do not want those services. I don't need my phone to be "fun." And I get all of the "enjoyment" from my phone that I want or need, especially if I set it to vibrate and put it in my pocket.

Morning Devotions

Many people make grand new year's resolutions--I'm going to go to the gym 43 times each week! I'm going to go to yoga classes every day! I'm going to eat nothing except carrots and wheat bran and filtered water! Did I mention going to the gym???--and, in part because the commitments are unsustainable, they don't last very long. Generally, by mid February, at the gym the lines at the various pieces of equipment or the crowds for a particular class or activity would diminish. We regulars would have the place to ourselves again.

Don't get me wrong: If that kickstart works for someone--where "works" = helps someone find a sustainable change of habits--I'm happy about it. It's not at all that I want those crowds of people to Fail. It even bums me out a bit that so many of them are going to fail, because I think that they'd be happier if they could figure out a way to notFail. And, really, it's even possible that many of them will keep trying and will eventually find a way to incorporate some kind of exercise in their lives in a way that is pleasant and sustainable.

In any case, it's because i remember those crowds of people in January who disappeared by February that, when I try to make changes, I aim to set very small, very specific goals for myself. (I don't have crowds around my rowing machine, however.) I'm still not always successful, mind you, but the advantage of setting isolated goals is that, if it does fail, it's easier to identify the reasons why and, maybe, make another, possibly-more-successful attempt.

One of my mini goals for this new year--drink at least one, preferably two, glasses of water when I get up in the morning and at least twice more during the day--has had subtle but significant benefits. I can't point to a specific effect, but, overall, my innards seem much happier about the whole thing. The first-thing-in-the-morning solution works pretty well for this particular effort, probably because I can just pour a glass of water and drink it.

A second mini-goal was, as mentioned before, a few minutes of yoga. That one has hung in so far, as well, and this one, too, is more likely to be accomplished if I do it in the morning. I miss the occasional day; I sometimes do it in the evening rather than the morning; and I haven't really expanded beyond the original sequence I assembled for myself. But--and this is the important part--I keep doing it. I had two mats, so I took one to Friend's house, which facilitates keeping it in the morning slot. (His cat isn't entirely sure she approves--she'd much rather I chase her around and wrestle with her, which is one of her preferred post-breakfast activities.)

The third thing I've been doing, though it wasn't a goal, exactly, is eating a bowl of oatmeal (steel-cut oats, because I love the chewiness) in the morning, with blueberries cooked right in. Remember that 10 pounds or so of blueberries I bought this summer at the farmers' market and froze? That's what's going into the oatmeal. This one has the added benefit of actually using the damn blueberries and eating more stuff out of the freezer, so it's pretty much an all-around win. For awhile I was making oatmeal at work (in the microwave), but some days I didn't feel like fussing with it, or someone was using the microwave, or whatever. At home it seems like way less of a hassle, somehow.

Basically, I've been trying to restructure my mornings a bit. I hadn't quite conceptualized it that way, but an examination of the above three things made me realize everything I'm doing is a morning thing. One of the things I really don't do in the morning is work out. I've tried it, sometimes I've even sustained it for a little while, but, in general, it's not a good fit for me. I'm an early-morning person (I typically wake up before 5 am, and I almost never set an alarm), but I'm even less flexible in the morning. I'm going to try to do it tomorrow morning, though, because I'm supposed to go out to dinner in the evening, after acupuncture, so it would be useful to get a workout in. (Especially because I hoovered everything in sight today, for some reason.) And, hey, if I end up not going out, I will have already done my workout for the day, so a win there, too.

Anyway. We're in the middle of a snowstorm; we're expecting a bunch more tonight. You people on the east coast got your share already, so I guess it's our turn, but I can't get terribly bent out of shape about it. I don't have to drive in it, and, on some level, it's just snow.

CondoMe, Part 1

So the first batch was interesting. There is/was one place that I kinda loved--I woke up Sunday morning thinking about it--but, as I continued to truly contemplate living there, the rational part of my brain was able to remind the rest of my brain that, although there are, indeed, many windows and a lake view, nearly all of the windows face north. That is, this place will get absolutely no direct light, which, ultimately, will make me unhappy. I should add that, if it had faced south rather than north, I might have written a check on the spot.

That is useful information, at least in my head, because it helps me refine what I want. Seeing actual places helps me figure out which things are REALLY important, and by how much. For example, another place has a balcony--except it's facing a courtyard, and the people across the courtyard are quite close, and there's a taller building past that, so not a lot of light there, either. A skylight helps, but, all in all, it didn't excite me that much, especially for the price. Point being, a balcony isn't the most important thing.

I think we're going to see some more places on Thursday. There are a few seemingly fab places we couldn't see on Saturday, and it's early in the search. It's not as though I have to decide RIGHT NOW, which is what I've generally had to do when I'm moving.

The other project for the weekend was a synergistic blend of "use some of the canned beans and tomatos, already, maybe starting with the ones you bought three fucking years ago when they were on sale and you stocked up" and "how about making some dinners and, especially, lunches, so you have some stuff you can just grab and go, okay?" The real estate agent dropped me off at the Whole Paycheck on Saturday and I did my usual buy-so-much-stuff-my-arms-get-longer, and Sunday morning I went nuts. I ended up making:
*a black bean and sweet potato thing (it's supposed to be pureed but I just mashed it up so it's more coarsely textured), some of which was used for our dinner last night while we watched the game (along with chips, melted cheddar, avocado, mango, salsa, and some slightly freezer-burned chicken breasts from my freezer that were sliced into thin strips and spiced with a jerk chicken blend)
*french vegetable and bean stew, made with leeks (which I've never used before), white beans, tomtaos, carrots, potatos, fennel seed, and fresh tarragon
*tuscan beans with sage--basically, white beans with garlic and sage, and I dumped in a can of tomatos there, too, and maybe an onion
*chickpeas with spinach--again, a can of tomatos, some garlic, as well as cumin, coriander, and a pinch of saffron
The stew will make nice lunches, especially with a hunk of bread. The chickpeas or the black beans can be combined with some brown rice for lunch, and the beans with sage can be combined with pasta for a quick dinner. Everything is packed into little serving-size bags or containers, so I just need to make a batch of brown rice--and possibly prepackage and freeze that, too. All of the recipes were from the Moosewood Low-Fat Cookbook, though I modified a couple of them a bit.

And? I did it all in about three hours, maybe less. I wanted to do some baking, too, and then decided I'd save that project for another day. But I did manage to use up a bunch of stuff--several cans of beans and tomatos, in fact--so I managed to implement both parts of the plan. And the plan has two ulterior motives: further improve my eating habits, in ways that are easy to maintain, and use up as much of the stuff in my freezer and cabinets as possible, thereby reducing the things that will need to be moved.

Meanwhile, my motivation is still missing; give me a call if you find it, 'k?

Time Flies

like an arrow; fruit flies like my apartment. I cannot for the life of me figure out what the fuck is attracting them, and it is getting on my last damn nerve. Looks like I have a project for the weekend.

Other than looking at condos, that is. I am working with an agent--my boss just bought a place, and this is the person who helped him, and he, in turn, got the recommendation from his brother, who is a loan officer. She says we're going to look at five places on Saturday; we'll see how that goes.

Clothing descriptions that annoy me:

boyfriend (used to describe pants, jackets, and shirts) What the fuck is a "boyfriend" style? My favorite in the current jjill catalogue is a "boyfriend" jacket with "princess" seams. Honey, if your boyfriend is wearing things that have princess seams, then he may be more a friend of Dorothy than a boyfriend of yours, if you know what I mean.

authentic fit Because what would an "inauthentic" fit be, exactly? For that matter, what makes the fit authentic?

weekend Especially when used to describe a sweater that is nicer than some of the shit I wear to work. If it's the weekend, unless I'm going Out, I'm wearing a t-shirt or sweatshirt or fleece, or possibly some combination of all of those (depending on the season and whether I'm at Friend's house). I am not wearing a drapey cashmere sweater.

The fires at work aren't burning quite as strongly, pretty much. There are still two piles of debris that are in flames--no; wait; three--but I have high hopes that I can extinguish at least one and possibly all three today. We'll see. I have had so little motivation this week to begin with, and once I started on this findacondo project, I lost all remaining interest in doing work. I manage to focus periodically, though, because various projects Must Get Done or People Will Be Upset. And, really, rightly so; these things really truly must be done. I just wish I could muster some motivation to do them.

Space Station

As you know, I've been contemplating a move, and it has taken an unexpected course. As I rummaged in the "for rent" ads, there was a bifurcation: a fair amount of stuff at my current rent level, give or take a hundred bucks, then a gap, then some more stuff at rents about $500 or $600 more than I'm paying. So I could either move to another shitty apartment--with, presumably, a different array of less-than-desirable factors than my current apartment--or I could nearly double my rent for a nicer one-bedroom apartment. Which is a fuckload of money, so I idly wondered what kinds of prices condos were getting in my neighborhood.

Answer? Sufficiently cheaply priced such that I have decided that I'm buying a place to live, and it'll likely happen within the next three months; I'm actually looking at some two-bedroom places on Saturday with an agent. So, yes, I will likely be moving when this lease is up (or before), but to my own place, rather than to another rental. And, most likely, I'll end up paying less each month for all of the bits (mortgage, assessment, taxes, etc.) than I would pay to rent a similarly nice two-bedroom apartment.

On one hand, it feels a little weird, but, on the other, once I did some simple math, it was a pretty obvious thing to do. I'll be interested to see the actual spaces, rather than pictures, so I can really evaluate my options.

And I'm kinda excited. Part of what was making me not want to move--despite my various peeves with my current apartment--was the knowledge that I really had to go through things that are crammed in drawers and closets. When I moved four years ago, I just heaved things into boxes and brought it along (much like I did in 1993). Periodically I have tried to go through stuff, but there are things I've never looked at or opened since I moved in, and I know there are piles of crap rid of which I must get. (Do I really need three old cell phones? No; I do not. One of them isn't even mine--I found it on the street and tried to return it, but was unable to do so.)

I really was not looking forward to weeding through the boxes and piles of stuff; it's an onerous job, not least because hauling things that can be recycled to the places that will take them requires friends' vehicles. But the thought of hauling things I don't want or need to a recycling location so I can move to a new place that is NOT another crappy rental is magically less onerous. Yes, it will require exactly the same amount of effort, but it's still a different feeling.

So, yeah. Not really what I expected to be doing at the moment, but sometimes you gotta say what the fuck.