I’m moving to a new apartment this weekend.
It’s .8 seconds from Taco Bell, which obviously was a major selling point. That and the in-unit washer and dryer.
It’s also about 10 minutes from my church. I wanted to write “less than 10 minutes,” because that sounds better, but really, it’s 10 minutes.
Either way though, it’s about a solid 36 hours closer than current place, which is three or four towns over, depending on which map you use.
I’ve invested a lot in that church, and the congregation there, and I truly love the idea of being closer to that community more than you know.
I fantasize about saying things like, “Oh, let me just run over to the church real quick.” And “Oh, that’s fine, I was going to be driving past the church later today anyway.”
Of course, because of my inability to pick jobs based on reason, my new place is still a solid hour from my full-time job. And that sucks.
But I have flexible hours, I listen to KLove while I drive, and I get to work-from-home often enough that I’m not too worried about it. Check back in a year, and you might get a different answer. But for now, I’m just excited to have convenient access to seven layer burritos (see: url) at all hours of the day and night. I swear to you that I would eat Taco Bell for breakfast if they were open then.
Moving has been a process for sure. Everyone seems to think I move like once a week or something, but I actually only really do it about once a year. Which isn’t so bad for a single 28-year-old in the suburbs.
Plus, this time, I have to get a bigger place because my brother is living with me. The poor guy has been sleeping on my couch since January, counting down the days until my lease expires. In the new apartment, he’ll have his own bedroom, his own walk-in closet and even his own bathroom. What more is there in life?
Finding the place was a journey though. At first I had my heart set on a two-bedroom town home that a private owner was renting out. Alas, she looked at my student loan debt, and subsequent credit score and decided she wanted first and last month’s rent as well a $1,500 security deposit. For those playing along at home, that’s $3,5,00 total.
If I had the ability to save up $3,500 in anything other than a 401k, I’m thinking I probably wouldn’t have so much student debt in the first place.
So that whole thing didn’t happen.
Then, in desperation, I tried to look at some places on a Sunday, only to remember that stupid apartment complexes are closed on Sundays.
What the what now?
I’m all in favor of Sabbath and stuff, but there’s some professions that just have to work on the sacred day. Among them are youth leaders and people who rent out living spaces.
If I could come see your units between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, then I probably wouldn’t have a job, and you want me to have a job, don’t you? What’s that? You’re open Saturday, from noon to 4 p.m.? Well aren’t you sweet. Now I just have to figure out how to look at 35 complexes in four hours. Awesome sauce.
Anyway, I ended up applying for an apartment in something called HighPoint Community, on HighPoint Drive (one word, two capital letters, hard to explain).
The leasing agents were nicer than nice, and I had a Realtor friend with me through it all to help ease the awkward conversations about the fact that my credit score is the same as my apartment number.
In the end, I got approved and everything worked out, but only after they randomly found a $183 electric bill I’d long forgotten about from Iowa, circa. 2006 and then I paid it so that I could meet their approval process.
The fact that they tracked thing down seriously makes me worried about our country. I promise on my heart that I really, truly did not know that was outstanding, and can only offer the fact that I was young and broke at the time as justification.
Although, well, I guess I’m still technically both those things, I just have a better car now.
Anyway, like I said, it all worked out. And I’m slated to sign the lease this afternoon.
Right after that, I’m totally going to start packing.