Mar. 4th, 2010

thejunipertree: (Default)
The apartment I currently live in, I've been here since May of 2001. It is, officially and no doubt about it, the longest I have ever lived anywhere. Prior to this, during my adult life, I pretty much moved once every year, year and a half. Growing up, we never stayed anywhere longer than four or five years (and that was a stretch that only happened when I was in high school).

Though it's faults are many and mighty, it's not a terrible place to live. I mean, I don't have crackheads pissing on my door and I'm not afraid to park my car at night. The building has gone done in quality, structure-wise and tenant-wise, over the years. If one were to allow me to start rambling about everything I hate about this place, one would be occupied with my natter for a good three hours.

It's not a hovel or anything. Things could be much worse.

Regardless, I still want out. I've wanted out for a long goddamn time, but there was always some reason why I couldn't move out at the moment. Last week, the Engineer and I received a letter from the landlord notifying us that they were raising the rent again (and thereby changing the effective date of our lease, it was supposed to end in May). We can agree to stay on for another year at that rate, or we can go on a month-to-month at a slightly higher rate.

The Engineer wants to stay another year. It would take us that long to get our shit together to move out anyway, so going on a month-to-month would be a pointless waste of money. I really, really, really want out of this place, but I can recognize the logic in that.

All of that being said, come next February, I don't care what happens- I am out of here. Don't get in my fucking way.

We had a brief conversation about what we'd like to do. He's been pushing for a house for years, but I've always balked at the idea. This was, of course, before I broke down and let him move in with me after eight-some years of being together. At this point, we've been living together for almost a year (ALMOST A YEAR?!), so I'm becoming more accustomed to having him up in my grill all the time (I won't budge on the marriage issue still, however- some things never change). So, I wouldn't be opposed to getting a house together. But, the market is really against us right now and the idea of getting up a down payment is nigh on laughable.

Renting a house could work, providing we found one that wasn't ridiculously expensive and was owned by someone not a complete dickbite. Houses usually mean yards. And yards mean yard work. That's not cool, not my gig. But yards also mean room to grow things. And if I could plant a wee victory garden, I could be convinced that spending time in the big blue room isn't all that bad, as long as it also involves things like big black floppy-brimmed ladies' hats and copious sunblock and mint juleps.

I'm not even opposed to moving into another apartment. Providing that it's not on the ground level, like this one. One of the most annoying things ever about this place is the fact I need to keep the blinds or curtains drawn constantly so people can't see inside. Being in the back of the building, facing the parking lot, I don't have the benefit of bushes, like the apartments out front. I just get the front end of cars lined up against every window except the master bedroom. It sucks.

Also, any place without the woman two apartments down from me would be absolute heaven, regardless of any other conditions. That bitch is effing crazy.


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January 2011

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