Apr 09 2009
Plan B
Storm-tossed roses
Well, that decision was made for me. The owners of the white picket fence house want a total of $4,000 to move in. That’s first and last month’s rent, plus a security deposit, plus a pet deposit. All for a small, beige-carpeted house in a small town where it’s 100 degrees in the summer. In a state where unemployment is at an all-time high and the economy at all-time low. You’d think I could get a place in Manhattan for that kind of money.
So it’s out of my price range, and maybe it’s just as well. It would have taken literally every penny I had, plus a loan from my boss/partner, and I’d have no cushion whatsoever if something goes wrong with the car, or the kitties, or Me, for that matter, since I’m health insurance free at this point.
I’ve decided to write a friendly note to my landlords and ask if they would consider taking their stuff out of the garage, so I can put mine in. It would go a long away toward improving my tenuous mental health if I could get rid of the boxes in the living room. Also, I have to admit that it kind of annoys me not to have the full use of the property for which I’m paying rent. Especially when I can’t use the bathtub and most of the doors don’t close.
I’ll also ask if they’d be willing to buy plants, preferably drought-tolerant ones, to replace the sad brown grass. I’ll haul out the old grass and replace it if they’ll buy the materials. Having a severely depressed lawn tends to make Me depressed, too. Maybe if I can make it a little nicer here, I can take my time, save up some money, and look for the right house at the right price.
Maybe I’m just not a white picket fence kind of girl.