smiling on foot

I’ve been living with my parents for a few reasons. 1) To get ahead in my finances. 2) I’m done living with roommates but can’t afford to live in a 1BR in this area until #1 happens. 3) I’ve never lived alone and would like some transition time to think about it. 4) I’d kind of like to be able to save a little dough towards a condo. As far as #4 is concerned, I’m so wishy washy about the whole idea. At my old age of 32, I should really be looking to invest in some property but the responsibility that comes along with owning something freaks me out a little bit. Just enough to make me rent instead of own? Maybe… I’m just not sure if I want to handle something like that by myself. I’m also hesitant to commit to a particular city or town. I don’t think I’ll be moving across the country or anything, but my recent history shows vast instability in sticking with the same job, apt. or boyfriend for any extended period of time. What if I hate where I live after 3 years and I want to move? Do I really want to risk losing money in my investment or should I keep it to my free and easy apt. living? Most advise me to stick to my parents’ house until I can afford a mortgage on a halfway decent condo. Although I’m up in the air on all this, I’ve been really trying to stick with the condo plan – until this past Monday.

For the past year and four months, I’ve been consistently checking apartments and condos in the south shore area to just increase awareness. I am essentially broke, so we’re talking purely educational purposes. An apartment caught my eye this week on craigslist for a 1BR on Wollaston Hill in Quincy. It’s the top floor of a beautiful old Victorian and only $900/month. Something told me that I had to see it in person. However, I wouldn’t have much to live on after the bills are paid. I figured that it’s a good thing I like grilled cheese sandwiches and called the realtor to make a Wednesday night appointment. I obsessed over whether or not I could afford to live in this apartment and whether or not I should even go see it from Monday to Wednesday. I’m sure I annoyed my co-workers with my apartment talk and even polled them on how much money they live on per month after bills are paid. If I’m unsure about something, it’s all I can think about… a severe disability.

I asked AMR to accompany me to see this place. I was so nervous because I knew if I fell in love with it, I’d have to move into it and then proceed to starve to death. I know this because 1) I’m stupid. 2) I’m sometimes that kind of passionate person who follows her heart no matter the consequences. (And I know 1 and 2 are sort of synonymous.) Thank goodness for level-headed AMR. The realtor took us through the bedroom first and it was a pretty good size, 2 closets and tall ceilings. The previous tenant left a note about a certain cord he had found to bring free cable into that room. Bonus. There was a cute “in between room” when walking from the bedroom to the living room. The living room had been advertised as narrow… but boy was it TINY (and narrow). It looked like a closed in porch with windows lining two of the walls. It also had a working fireplace. Although the house is old and beautiful, the windows are old and terrible. I’m sure all those windows are too old to keep out the winter – and I hate winter. With 3 of us standing in the living room with no furniture, I felt a little too closed in… I can only image putting my futon in there and never wanting to invite people over for fear of claustrophobia. On the other side of the living room was a little “dining room” that would hardly fit any sort of a dining set… even a cafe style would be too much in the way. And then the grand finale was the kitchen/bathroom area. I don’t even think “tiny” could cover it. If I was any bigger than I am, I would not be able to fit into the shower area or be able to take something out of the oven. It also smelled like gas in that kitchen (the scary blow up kind, not the stinky bum kind). I took some photos seen below, but I honestly think they make the place look better than what it was.

AMR and I had a little heart-to-heart in the street afterward. She reminded me how rewarding it would be to own my own place rather than living in some Quincy dump. I’ve since regarded this 3-day apartment obsession as a mere moment of weakness and am back on track for my ultimate goal of world domination, er, buying a condo. I still think it’s a scary endeavor to do on my own, but who knows where my mind will be at in a year. So I’m sitting tight in Weytown and avoiding the craigslist listings to protect myself from anymore moments of weakness!