So I bought a house...
Everything has changed, yet I still think I'm pretty much the same miserable person I was before. On April 12th I closed on a house out in the south suburbs. The months leading up to it, searching for the house, dealing with work and a brief romantic drama culminated into making it one of the most stressful times of my adult life. Work truly being the catalyst from which any enjoyment of the other experiences was muted. But, I've spent my entire adult life complaining about work so why not move on to other aspects for now.
Things with my landlords at the other apartment had just gotten ridiculously out of hand, with them invading my personal life, inviting themselves up (and workmen) whenever it suited them and generally making me feel like a prisoner at home. I would basically hide in the apartment when I was there, afraid that the slightest step or sound would alert them I was home and they'd come up. There was also the multiple times I had to let them in because they were locking themselves out so often, being their resident dog walker... the list just goes on and on. And in the middle of winter the landlord was already making a laundry list of reasons why he'd need access to my apartment in Spring (after I blew up at him the one day about how he could not just invite himself up without giving me 24 hours notice).
I waited until the last possible minute to tell him I was moving, and sure as shit, he was bringing potential new tenants to see the place with zero notice. When I finally moved out he was quite angry to discover all the candles I used to burn left the walls covered in soot. I played stupid and left a few items behind just to avoid ever having to see them again. And I cannot tell you the joy of waking up without hearing those morons below me. Being able to come and go as I please without bumping into them. Turning my music up as loud as I want to. Singing in the shower daily. No price can be put on the freedom I feel now living in my own place.
As far as leaving the city goes, it was not as traumatic as I thought it might be. In fact, I find myself annoyed by the fact there are still things in the city I am going down there to do in my social life and I can't just take a complete break from it. I don't miss the endless search for parking when I get home. I don't miss 90% of the awful people I'd see on the streets. Now I come and go with minimal human contact and, even though I am in the heart of the burbs, I see far fewer yuppies and their spawn than I did before.
I am not without stress as far as the house itself goes. I had so many ideas about the home I wanted to create, but the trouble is such things will take years. And in my mind I want them all done NOW. Painting has turned into a nightmare project. The vaulted ceilings on the main floor took me over two weeks to complete. The task was so arduous, and having cats is as bad as trying to accomplish something with kids around. And one of the cats has been peeing everywhere, which has punched me in the gut of my motivation to the point where I've just spent days here and there on the couch in a depressed zombie state feeling the house is already ruined before I even made the first mortgage payment.
And my big dreams of gardening my life away are sadly the dreams that will be on hold the longest until I can afford to fence off the side lot and truly begin planning/planting the vast gardens I've written about time and again. Though this hasn't stopped me from countless trips to the garden centers down here buying tropicals and dozens of sale plants on bargain racks that need to go in the ground sooner rather than later.
The pool has been this anxiety-inducing element too. I decided to keep it rather than get rid of it right away. But, I have no idea how to set it up, and though some neighbors have offered I keep telling myself (for weeks now) to call a professional to help me open it. Yet, day after day I put this task off. It's just all part of the overwhelming position I put myself in trying to do so much at once (and ultimately falling into a depression and doing nothing).
I like the suburbs though. I have had no issues keeping busy when I try. And honestly, I have had zero issues meeting new people out here when I want to. I've fallen into somewhat of a "renaissance" of sorts in my social life. Though as my father has reminded me before, it is not difficult for him or his offspring to meet new people if and when it has suited us.
I'm not getting worse in my financial situation but I've not done much in the area of savings since the move. I decided to buy a new bed and a few pieces of furniture that cost over two grand. I must be mentally different now when it comes to spending money because I was so hesitant to do so. I almost would have rather just stayed on my old bed in the guest room with half the house empty of any furniture rather than spend part of my savings. A new car has to be in the future. And a new roof in the next five years. I've gotten to this point now. I can't screw things up by going backwards with credit card debt and stupid spending habits.
Though after living a year putting the bulk of my money into savings I should cut myself some slack. I did buy a bunch of new clothes after the move. Something I hadn't done in a long time. Partially because I lost 25 pounds between winter and spring. The stresses from work and the move as I said were intense. Added in was a brief, shall we call it non-romance, that put me in a tailspin. It may have somewhat been me focusing all my fears onto that one person and then crumbling in the subsequent reality that what was happening there was not a real relationship or any kind of "love". But, it had been two years since I pretty much had any contact on a romantic/sexual level with anyone. I am allowed to have gone slightly crazy I guess.
I don't feel bad about where I am right now, except for work. It is the only piece of the puzzle now that feels out of whack. I still sit here clueless of how to resolve it. My boss isn't a bad guy. My situation isn't awful. I get away with so much at this job. But, the work itself is more than even the word miserable can describe. It's not always hard work. But, I just cannot stand any of it. And the people I deal with are often so unforgivably stupid. The Meat Packer being the true bane of my work existence. I just am reminded every day how I told my boss years ago I wanted nothing to do with them, and he screwed me over anyway and tossed them in my lap. And every horrible scenario that I imagined might happen (and more) has. If I could get my house in some semblance of order, perhaps my mind would clear on this other thing but for now I am firmly rooted in mental chaos.
Things with my landlords at the other apartment had just gotten ridiculously out of hand, with them invading my personal life, inviting themselves up (and workmen) whenever it suited them and generally making me feel like a prisoner at home. I would basically hide in the apartment when I was there, afraid that the slightest step or sound would alert them I was home and they'd come up. There was also the multiple times I had to let them in because they were locking themselves out so often, being their resident dog walker... the list just goes on and on. And in the middle of winter the landlord was already making a laundry list of reasons why he'd need access to my apartment in Spring (after I blew up at him the one day about how he could not just invite himself up without giving me 24 hours notice).
I waited until the last possible minute to tell him I was moving, and sure as shit, he was bringing potential new tenants to see the place with zero notice. When I finally moved out he was quite angry to discover all the candles I used to burn left the walls covered in soot. I played stupid and left a few items behind just to avoid ever having to see them again. And I cannot tell you the joy of waking up without hearing those morons below me. Being able to come and go as I please without bumping into them. Turning my music up as loud as I want to. Singing in the shower daily. No price can be put on the freedom I feel now living in my own place.
As far as leaving the city goes, it was not as traumatic as I thought it might be. In fact, I find myself annoyed by the fact there are still things in the city I am going down there to do in my social life and I can't just take a complete break from it. I don't miss the endless search for parking when I get home. I don't miss 90% of the awful people I'd see on the streets. Now I come and go with minimal human contact and, even though I am in the heart of the burbs, I see far fewer yuppies and their spawn than I did before.
I am not without stress as far as the house itself goes. I had so many ideas about the home I wanted to create, but the trouble is such things will take years. And in my mind I want them all done NOW. Painting has turned into a nightmare project. The vaulted ceilings on the main floor took me over two weeks to complete. The task was so arduous, and having cats is as bad as trying to accomplish something with kids around. And one of the cats has been peeing everywhere, which has punched me in the gut of my motivation to the point where I've just spent days here and there on the couch in a depressed zombie state feeling the house is already ruined before I even made the first mortgage payment.
And my big dreams of gardening my life away are sadly the dreams that will be on hold the longest until I can afford to fence off the side lot and truly begin planning/planting the vast gardens I've written about time and again. Though this hasn't stopped me from countless trips to the garden centers down here buying tropicals and dozens of sale plants on bargain racks that need to go in the ground sooner rather than later.
The pool has been this anxiety-inducing element too. I decided to keep it rather than get rid of it right away. But, I have no idea how to set it up, and though some neighbors have offered I keep telling myself (for weeks now) to call a professional to help me open it. Yet, day after day I put this task off. It's just all part of the overwhelming position I put myself in trying to do so much at once (and ultimately falling into a depression and doing nothing).
I like the suburbs though. I have had no issues keeping busy when I try. And honestly, I have had zero issues meeting new people out here when I want to. I've fallen into somewhat of a "renaissance" of sorts in my social life. Though as my father has reminded me before, it is not difficult for him or his offspring to meet new people if and when it has suited us.
I'm not getting worse in my financial situation but I've not done much in the area of savings since the move. I decided to buy a new bed and a few pieces of furniture that cost over two grand. I must be mentally different now when it comes to spending money because I was so hesitant to do so. I almost would have rather just stayed on my old bed in the guest room with half the house empty of any furniture rather than spend part of my savings. A new car has to be in the future. And a new roof in the next five years. I've gotten to this point now. I can't screw things up by going backwards with credit card debt and stupid spending habits.
Though after living a year putting the bulk of my money into savings I should cut myself some slack. I did buy a bunch of new clothes after the move. Something I hadn't done in a long time. Partially because I lost 25 pounds between winter and spring. The stresses from work and the move as I said were intense. Added in was a brief, shall we call it non-romance, that put me in a tailspin. It may have somewhat been me focusing all my fears onto that one person and then crumbling in the subsequent reality that what was happening there was not a real relationship or any kind of "love". But, it had been two years since I pretty much had any contact on a romantic/sexual level with anyone. I am allowed to have gone slightly crazy I guess.
I don't feel bad about where I am right now, except for work. It is the only piece of the puzzle now that feels out of whack. I still sit here clueless of how to resolve it. My boss isn't a bad guy. My situation isn't awful. I get away with so much at this job. But, the work itself is more than even the word miserable can describe. It's not always hard work. But, I just cannot stand any of it. And the people I deal with are often so unforgivably stupid. The Meat Packer being the true bane of my work existence. I just am reminded every day how I told my boss years ago I wanted nothing to do with them, and he screwed me over anyway and tossed them in my lap. And every horrible scenario that I imagined might happen (and more) has. If I could get my house in some semblance of order, perhaps my mind would clear on this other thing but for now I am firmly rooted in mental chaos.