Some time ago, I acknowledged that I needed to "get a job, move out, get a divorce, and then [have a crappy mini-relationship]." It took two months to manage even the first of the three. Then I was inspired to get the ball rolling on the divorce while Martin was in China because I knew it could take months to get that finalized. But securing housing was a big looming cloud. With only a couple of months of employment under my belt, I knew it would be a challenge to find someone willing to take a chance on me. And while I'd crunched the numbers over and over and over, I was unsure that my budget could truly withstand the weight of rent and all of its accompanying expenses.
But as a gesture of goodwill to myself, I kept my eyes open for rentals. I checked out apartments in the area and frequented Craigslist to see what was in the neighborhood. It seemed that my bank account was not Johnson-County-Friendly. . .if I wanted more than one bedroom, that is. Soon, a couple of distinct possibilities worked their ways in and out of my life. And then last Saturday while I was running, I spotted a FOR RENT sign out of the corner of my eye (as I sped so quickly past a side street that I nearly missed it!) In our first phone conversation, I learned that the owner was hoping for more than my means allowed. I squeezed in a little ditty about being handy and having chutzpah and he encouraged me to see the house nonetheless. So Sunday morning I did. And it's a great house. Better than a previous one that I thought to be perfect. I was upfront about my history and current situation and a couple of days later, he informed me that he wanted me to be his renter. Within my fiscal parameters.
Then I ran through Hope Care Center in such a state of glee that the nurses likely thought I was having a seizure.
Tonight I signed my lease. I will be moving mid-October. This is as big a step as I've taken on my new journey.
Lucky me. Now I'm eligible to have a crappy mini-relationship. Hmmm, I hope that's optional.