So, let go, give up, think happy thoughts, think it-will-never-work-out thoughts and what happens? It works out anyways.
I got the apartment that I went to look at the other day. It’s a great thing for a bazillion reasons, mostly owing to the facts that it’s half a block away from where we live now and it’s cheaper than I’ve been paying for the last two years.
This means that Isobel can continue to grow up in a neighbourhood surrounded by parks, ocean, gay couples loving each other openly, homeless panhandlers that know her by name and call her sweetie, a health food market that makes our favourite cookies, a pretty kickass community centre, a library, a pre-preschool program, the only nanny that I would feel really comfortable leaving her with (that she loves), friends she’s made in the past 16 months, friends I’ve made in the past 30, and so freaking on.
What else it means?
- That we’ll be commuting, maybe even as often as weekly if we’re invited, to the suburbs. Cuz I know that Huckdoll and I play well together, but I wanna see who slaps who the hardest between our three girls. And hang out at the skate park (harmlessly flirting with board pimps). And maybe even get some drinks on with BabyDaddy, too.
- That we’ll be living in a smaller space. We’re going from somewhere between 550 and 600 square feet to 450. It’s cool. We got rid of a lot of stuff. But it will still feel more confined. And make moving the furniture every three weeks pretty boring.
- That’s it’s more run down. Which means that it might need some crazy cleaning efforts. Which I have no problem with.
- Since this will be our first place – our first only ours place, without JDawg, you know? – I will work really hard to make it ours. I’m going to paint (even if it means repainting when we move out) it colours that we like, I’m going to throw up some shelves, do some crocheting and buy some stuff that really makes us comfie. It will be our crib.
- I’ll probably not hire movers. I’ll probably look for some strong men to lend a hand for a coupla hours while JDawg is with Isobel. I will pay them in beer and food.
- Isobel can have her B-Day party at the beach/spray park/park, here. Which means a commute for the burbs people, but hey, maybe we can figure out carpooling? Or frick, a taxi or zip car? The food and alcohol will be worth it!
- I’ll have to get used to the thought of not smoking whenever I feel like it. Yes, judge away that I smoke out the window of my apartment, whether Isobel’s in the room or not. I do it. And I won’t be allowed to anymore in 20 days.
- Since there’s a no pet policy, the random thought of getting a kitty or doggy for us flew right out the window. With my smoking.
- I’m signing the lease on Monday, meaning I’ll be here in this ‘hood for at least another year. Score!
Okay, so there’s a bunch of pros and a bunch of cons. But really? It’s all working out. I can now focus my extra energy on wall washing and packing – instead of packing, cleaning, finding a place, money, hiring a moving company without a credit card and who would take care of Isobel during the long-ass haul to the ‘burbs.
I can breathe, you know?
