Friday, May 1, 2009

apartment adultery.

For the past couple of weeks, Jordan and I have been debating resigning our lease (which is up for renewal in July). The lack of outdoor space and, more importantly, the noticeable absence of a washer and dryer, had us seriously considering a move.

Just to clarify, I hate the moving process. I feel like I just. did. that.

And yet… (Isn’t there always an, “and yet”?)

During my lunch break, the mod and I have been exploring, just looking for rent signs or checking out the riff-raff to be found on craigslist. (Seriously. All advertisements should be required to post un-edited photographs.)

One day, fate found us.

Jordan and I were checking out a little townhome community we looked at a year ago, and lo and behold, not one, not two, but three townhomes were for rent. Cute, brick, classy townhomes.

So we placed a few phone calls.

Too much.

Too much.

Then came our big break. Something just slightly out of our tighter-than-the-belts-I-wore-in-elementary-school budget.

Today, during another lunch break extravaganza, the husband and I went to go check it out.

There was wallpaper.

And weeds.

And yellow countertops.

And yet… (There it is again)

I loved it.

The two stories.

The washer-dryer hook-ups.

The space for friends and family.

The windows.

The fireplace.

The little patch of land to call our own.

Then, fate found us again.

Thanks to a little bartering from my soon-to-be-lawyer of a husband, they knocked $50 off the rent, which already includes cable (our current rent does not).

As if that weren’t enough, my little heart skipped a beat when the realtor uttered these fate-filled words: “The homeowner says you can take down the wallpaper, paint, whatever.”

You mean… I can make my little house a home? Visions of blueprints and paint colors danced in my head.

Where do I sign?

Of course, guilt set in just a moment later.

My quaint, old, charming, midtown apartment. In a neighborhood. With children, and families, and dogs, and lemonade stands. And character. Lots of character.

Ingleside Avenue. Just like Anne.

Our first place together. Our treehouse.

And it hit me: I had cheated.

I was the old man with the young blond. The midlife crisis with the red Ferrari.

I was actually considering trading in my first love for a newer model.

Granted, a newer model that needs a lot of tender loving care, but still... The guilt remained.

I cheated on my apartment today.

Now I think it might hate me.

But—I can’t believe I’m typing this—we might sign the paperwork anyway.
Bring on the boxes.


chet said...

I'll take your apartment!!

Jordan Jones said...

Well...I don't feel as if I've wronged our old apartment. The key is to not get too attached. But you--you certainly will hurt our current apartment's feelings, since you've loved it so much. But then again--sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta long as it's not done against a person.

Anonymous said...

GASP....did I see you write that you are excited about taking down wallpaper! j/k I think all the signs are pointing towards the new place, your current residence loves you too much to hold you back:)

Kim Matthews said...

I'm glad I discovered you have a blog! I love reading the great thoughts of Annie.

jenna said...

Oooo!! That sounds incredibly wonderful! I want to find a more awesome place to live!

Jessica said...

i think you would love having the freedom to decorate as you wish. sounds pretty cool!