So, I’ve been living in Denver for four years. I loved it. I LOVE it. I own a condo there. Which I also love.
All of this is irrelevant. I found out in February that I was accepted for a year-long internship in New York.
So. Moving.
Housing situation #1:
I found this guy on craigslist in March. We were all set to go, he sounded cool, the place was nearby where I would work. I called him in the first or second week of August to figure out security deposit, keys, all that. He called back and said, “sorry, I’m being evicted.” Oops. So I had to scramble to find another place.
Housing situation #2:
I find a woman on craigslist for the same price, also close to where I work. It sounds awesome. The pictures of her place are beautiful. She sounds a little flaky on the phone, and is constantly setting up times to talk, which she can then not manage to talk to me during. Whatever. She asks me to wire her money for security deposit. I figure she doesn’t quite get how paypal works. I do it. I discuss with her that my mom is driving out with me, and staying for a few days to help acclimate the animals. She seems reluctant at first, then says that she’s concerned because she doesn’t have a spare bed or couch or anything. I tell her it’s fine, I just need a room. We agree that I’ll come in around 2 a.m. on a Thursday.
I am NOT DOING WELL before I move. I’m a mess. I get $2000 worth of dental work done, because, well, my teeth fucking hurt. I drive fifteen hours that day, pass out in a hotel for 20 hours, and drive fourteen more the following day. We see a dead body in the middle of the road while we drive. All the parts were just… in the wrong places, like a rag doll. There was a lot of blood. I thought about stopping, but so many people already had.
We arrive around 2 a.m. She’s pushy about how I’m treating my animals, and gets more money for rent. She pulls me aside to tell me that my “guest” (my mom) can’t be in the house alone. WTF? I had an appointment the following day to get a pre-employment physical and drug screen and fingerprinting for my new job. She tells me to take my mom to it.
I tell her we’ll have to have a longer conversation the next day. I go to bed, only to get up six hours later, pack my mom and dog into my car, and drive to my appointments. I couldn’t leave my dog there, because she likes to leave the door open so her cat can go out. When I ask her about it, she says “don’t worry, just tell your day to stay, he’ll stay.” I would not leave him alone with her.
I find an eviction notice on the door the next day. I send out more emails looking for a place. Things get weird that night. Details are not for a public forum. Let’s just say - I felt like I needed to get out. So I did.
I send out more desperate emails and go to sleep. I have a place to view the next morning. I go, and the place is super cool, the current tenant is a college student, very laid back, and says the landlord is awesome, and a Lord of the Rings dork, which makes me feel quite at home. But it’s not available until the 1st, and I really want out… I get a call for another place, available immediately.
Housing situation #3:
This is the place I’m writing this blog from. The people who own the place are an amazing artist couple with a giant, beautiful house out in the woods. I walked in and there was jazz playing, incense burning, and everything seemed calm and peaceful and happy. They have four spare rooms, two of rich they rent, two of which they use for guests or socialization or whatever. After hearing my situation, they tell me I can move in immediately. I pack up my meager things, deflate my air mattress bed, get my bunny and blaze on out of there like a fucking bank robbery. I leave a note with the key.
The place I’m in is awesome, but it has one fatal flaw… they leave their doors open. Like… always leave the doors open. My dog is a maltese-shih-tzu mix. He wears sweaters and sometimes wants to be handfed. He sleeps on pillows. He can’t survive outside. Anything would kill him. I can’t lock him in my bedroom, because he will destroy the carpet and door if he knows someone else is home, and these people work from home. I realize this will not work. The people are cool with it, and we arrange that I can stay until the first and pay half a month’s rent. It’s way cheaper than a hotel, and I do like the place. But I need to be somewhere that my dog will be safe. My mom has fortunately not booked a flight home to Michigan, yet, and agrees to stay with me until I find a permanent place.
Housing situation #4:
I send an email back to the college student I met with earlier, hoping the place is still available. She also assures me that she closes doors, as she has cats. I woke up today to the email from her and the landlord saying that I got the place. I want to hug everything.
Now, I’m in the process of figuring out when I’ll meet to sign the lease agreement, drop off rent, etc. This woman isn’t asking for a security deposit. This is good, because I’ve had over $4000 go out in the last week. Fortunately, I have the funds to cover it (growing up poor as fuck teaches you some good skills!), but the proverbial well is running fucking dry. I’m pretty sure this will work out - I asked all the questions, did all the things, and didn’t make some stupid ass split-second decision like I have been making. I feel like I’ve been jumping from one burning ship to another, and it’s fucking terrible.
On top of it all… I miss home. I miss the city, and the grocery store, and knowing where things are and who sells the cheapest gas and having easily accessible underwear and food and soap and stuff. I went into a CVS the other day and had a little nostalgia moment because it was EXACTLY like every CVS I’ve ever been in (I worked in one for three years). Had a similar reaction at the Dollar Tree yesterday. And through it all… normal things. Finding something to eat. Brushing teeth. Taking dog out to potty.
It is so weird to do normal things in absolutely un-normal situations.
But I guess… I keep going. I get ready to start work on Monday. I’ll live here, in this wonderful, beautiful house that I can’t stay in, and I’ll get dressed and I’ll go to work, and I’ll come home and I’ll pack so I can move AGAIN. And for the love of the unholy fucking god, if this place doesn’t work out, I’m buying my own place. Buying a condo when I moved to Denver was so much simpler, easier, and happier.
I cannot WAIT to go back to it!
