"If that's moving up, then I'm moving out"
As most of you probably already know, (since I'm usually at least on life event behind on my LJ), my landlord called me Tuesday morning (before 8 am, because he wanted to catch me before work, clearly he doesn't know me well) and told me he would have to raise the rent . . . by $150 a month.
He also thinks that this is less than the current fair market value of the property. Honestly, if he expects someone to pay $700 a month for this rabbit hutch, he's going to have to paint the kitchen, fix the drains and put in a stove that was actually manufactured in the latter half of last century.
And new paint and window treatments wouldn't hurt either.
So, I'm moving. The aggravation of staying now exceeds the aggravation of leaving. I don't know where to yet, probably about a mile or two away and on the busline so I can get to work easily. I had wanted to stay until I had finished school, but I think I'll get my work done faster when I have a little room at home to relax and I'm not crammed into this claustrophobic, lightless, lifeless hellhole. (Yes, I know there are people who have it worse than me, but this place gets you down after 5+ years).
So after thinking about it all day on Tuesday and then having a nice chat with Spandrel, I made my decision. I'm out of here. Of course it helped that I looked at the listings and was able to determine that by moving further away, I could have an apartment with a bedroom, for less than I was going to pay with the rent increase (though I'll have to pick up the utilities.)
Some of these places even have . . . dishwashers.
(It was almost a religious experience, I was so overjoyed).
So tonight I have a very sore toe because my sock was rubbing it wrong when I was walking all over the student ghetto looking at apartment buildings, gauging where streets are and looking at proximity to grocery stores, trying to decide where to call. MP from work recommended his building and I might go there, and Dr. F (owner of the infamous R the cat) forbade me to hire movers and offered the use of his truck, so moving won't be so bad once I get the whole apartment packed. I've been looking into cheap furniture too, so there is hope I will have someplace to sit and someplace to sleep . . and even, dare I say it, have a place I could invite people over to.
Not that anyone has a undying need to come here.
I suppose I'd be more enthused if I hadn't spent the late afternoon walking all over creation and Mr. Roger's neighborhood (or close to it), and then gone to the shopping center for a Target run (and a splurge at Barnes and Noble).
Bad me, I shouldn't be indulging in books when I'm supposed to be getting rid of stuff and and supposed to be saving money. Bad, bad me. But it was a book with a purpose. I bought The Cat Handbook, because, believe it or not, some of these places allow . . . small furry pets. Or any pets at all. (When nireena stopped by on her way to school, she had forgot to mention her beta fish. We never told the landlord about that little breach in the lease. Oops. A fish . . . on the premises . . . overnight. Baaaaaaad me.) In any case, after reading more about cat care, I think I'm going to hold off until I move out of state, which I still intend to do in a bit more than a year, but I think I'll start saving up for one, since there are 'start up costs' shall we say, and it's hard enough to make a major move with a driver's license, even without trying to find a pet friendly abode. As for the book, I think I should have sprung for the more expensive Cats for Dummies, since the one I bought has a lot of stuff about showing cats which is of no interest to me other than maybe watching it on tv. I plan (eventually) on getting a cat from a shelter, something short-haired and fuzzy that likes to be picked up, and plan to have it rendered genderless. I don't plan on having children and I won't raise my future cat's either. Aunt E recommends males since neutering is cheaper and less invasive for the cat.
In the meantime, if I do move into a pet-free building, it might make it easier to take care of R when Dr. F has to go search for life on Mars again.
So I had best wrap this up as I have packing to do. I have already started 'stealing' boxes from work that have been discarded (after checking that nothing nasty was shipped in them). Someday, when I do have professional movers come to take away my stuff, they are going to wonder why my wordly possesions are packed into boxes with little pictures of fruit flies all over them.
He also thinks that this is less than the current fair market value of the property. Honestly, if he expects someone to pay $700 a month for this rabbit hutch, he's going to have to paint the kitchen, fix the drains and put in a stove that was actually manufactured in the latter half of last century.
And new paint and window treatments wouldn't hurt either.
So, I'm moving. The aggravation of staying now exceeds the aggravation of leaving. I don't know where to yet, probably about a mile or two away and on the busline so I can get to work easily. I had wanted to stay until I had finished school, but I think I'll get my work done faster when I have a little room at home to relax and I'm not crammed into this claustrophobic, lightless, lifeless hellhole. (Yes, I know there are people who have it worse than me, but this place gets you down after 5+ years).
So after thinking about it all day on Tuesday and then having a nice chat with Spandrel, I made my decision. I'm out of here. Of course it helped that I looked at the listings and was able to determine that by moving further away, I could have an apartment with a bedroom, for less than I was going to pay with the rent increase (though I'll have to pick up the utilities.)
Some of these places even have . . . dishwashers.
(It was almost a religious experience, I was so overjoyed).
So tonight I have a very sore toe because my sock was rubbing it wrong when I was walking all over the student ghetto looking at apartment buildings, gauging where streets are and looking at proximity to grocery stores, trying to decide where to call. MP from work recommended his building and I might go there, and Dr. F (owner of the infamous R the cat) forbade me to hire movers and offered the use of his truck, so moving won't be so bad once I get the whole apartment packed. I've been looking into cheap furniture too, so there is hope I will have someplace to sit and someplace to sleep . . and even, dare I say it, have a place I could invite people over to.
Not that anyone has a undying need to come here.
I suppose I'd be more enthused if I hadn't spent the late afternoon walking all over creation and Mr. Roger's neighborhood (or close to it), and then gone to the shopping center for a Target run (and a splurge at Barnes and Noble).
Bad me, I shouldn't be indulging in books when I'm supposed to be getting rid of stuff and and supposed to be saving money. Bad, bad me. But it was a book with a purpose. I bought The Cat Handbook, because, believe it or not, some of these places allow . . . small furry pets. Or any pets at all. (When nireena stopped by on her way to school, she had forgot to mention her beta fish. We never told the landlord about that little breach in the lease. Oops. A fish . . . on the premises . . . overnight. Baaaaaaad me.) In any case, after reading more about cat care, I think I'm going to hold off until I move out of state, which I still intend to do in a bit more than a year, but I think I'll start saving up for one, since there are 'start up costs' shall we say, and it's hard enough to make a major move with a driver's license, even without trying to find a pet friendly abode. As for the book, I think I should have sprung for the more expensive Cats for Dummies, since the one I bought has a lot of stuff about showing cats which is of no interest to me other than maybe watching it on tv. I plan (eventually) on getting a cat from a shelter, something short-haired and fuzzy that likes to be picked up, and plan to have it rendered genderless. I don't plan on having children and I won't raise my future cat's either. Aunt E recommends males since neutering is cheaper and less invasive for the cat.
In the meantime, if I do move into a pet-free building, it might make it easier to take care of R when Dr. F has to go search for life on Mars again.
So I had best wrap this up as I have packing to do. I have already started 'stealing' boxes from work that have been discarded (after checking that nothing nasty was shipped in them). Someday, when I do have professional movers come to take away my stuff, they are going to wonder why my wordly possesions are packed into boxes with little pictures of fruit flies all over them.