My lease ends at the end of this August, so as one can imagine I have been scouring the internet for places to live, as I am sick of apartment complex living. I’m over the stomping and yelling, over the sounds of my neighbor’s sex lives, and over the acoustic jam sessions where my neighbors butcher some of the best classic songs. And though it is a bit early to be hunting now, I want to know what I have to look forward to monetarily when trying to rent a house in the city of Grand Haven.
So what the hell does apartment house hunting have to do with mortality and goals? Well, in my mind they are inextricably linked. Yesterday, my mom tried talking me into owning a home. See, I did that once, about five years ago. All I really remember about selling it was the weight that was lifted off my shoulders when the burden of owning that home was gone. To me, a home is a huge commitment. You can’t just not sign another lease after a year or two is up and you need a change of scenery; oh no, it’s not that easy. You buy a home, settle down, commit to your current state, and somehow, my thoughts lead me to: and then you die.
There’s just so many places I’ve never been, so many experiences I’ve never had. These are the things I want to begin focusing on. My goal is to get over my fear of traveling to new places with my kiddo, crippling anxiety made worse by putting off facing it, so we can get on a plane, or take a weekend trip to Chicago. Some days are worse, where I just want to sit on my couch and not think about anything, but that adds to the problem.
I just try to remember another day is never a guarantee.