On being a grown-up, part two
Sat Aug 23, 08:11 | RandomI have an apartment now.
I have to go sign the papers and pay the rent next Wednesday, but it’s pretty much concrete. My life is going to be filled with cleaning, painting, settling, sorting, organizing, furniture shopping, and so on for the next while.
I almost didn’t want to take it after looking at my spreadsheets and finding out how much my spending habits would have to change, and how constantly strapped and unable to properly save I’d be. It’s moderately expensive, but that was the only option for something that wasn’t a) dirty, b) tiny, c) with a roommate, or d) carpeted while remaining in walking distance from work.
Hopefully Aaron will be living within walking distance. The idea that he might have found his apartment made me feel a lot better about my own.
I’m very concerned about finances now. If they require two months of rent and the security deposit, one paycheck won’t quite cut it and I’ll either have to resort to my credit card or taking from my savings. Neither were options I wanted to take. I haven’t even gotten my savings up to the point I wanted them to be, but it’s that or not getting a place until next year due to the renting market in Winnipeg.
So much for buying my camera, getting my savings up to the magic number I wanted it to be at, buying a nice small fold-out couch, all those things I was hoping would maybe make me feel a semblance of happy again.
It’s funny, I even planned for having to pay more this paycheck, and I still didn’t cover it. Handling my finances is going to be a very difficult task.
Maybe being on my own can trigger a series of events that will help fix me. I’ll be able to have friends over, my sister can stop telling me nothing I ever do is of any value because I don’t live in the real world (though I doubt she will), I’ll have space to design as I see fit and organize my things without it being invaded by someone else’s stuff, no more pets, no more unhealthy eating, no more two hours on the bus every day.
My stomach hurts, and it hasn’t stopped hurting since I got the news. I doubt this is a good sign.