Yes, you read that right. I moved.
Ten miles down the road.
Well, long story short, I could not afford to stay in the townhouse any longer.
I'm now in a two bedroom apartment, which admittedly isn't so bad (it's actually rather nice, and I DO have a place, which is also nice) but it's a far cry from having a townhome with a garage and relatively speaking, a lot more space.
This becomes important when you have to, say, put the dining room in storage, or look for someplace to store your comic collection, or just put away your Christmas decorations.
Admittedly, this has been coming awhile. My paycheck has been squeezed just at the same time taxes andbills keep going up, including the condo fees. I figure it was costing me something like nine hundred fifty a month just in taxes and fees, which is pretty high for a townhome.
I'm feeling... well, humiliation. Loss. And many more less than charitable, less than pleasant thoughts.
Truth to tell, I should have done something years ago, but you just get in that kind of situation where you hope things get better tomorrow. Well, tomorrow came.
On the one hand, it's a nice apartment complex I moved into - one of those that's set up with individual entrances and nice views of the lake (neccessary for flood control, but still...). I'm in a townhome unit, with two bedrooms upstairs and a living room and dining area downstairs. Pretty nice all things considered.
But also much, much smaller, which means I'll have to be getting rid of a lot of stuff. Some of which I don't mind getting rid of, other stuff of which I do mind very much.
I mean, I realize that having a roof over my head and all is great, and I really could have been a lot worse off, but still, moving when you don't really want to is not fun, let's put it that way.