officially moving… in february

On Friday, I went down to my apartment’s rental orifice to pick up a package (more about this later) that was delivered over my Thanksgiving road trip, and also get a new copy of the form I have to fill out in order to not renew my lease. They’d delivered one while I was a way, and on the line asking for "reason for not renewing", I’d written an essay. I gave that second thoughts, considering I still have to live here for three months, so I got a new one.

I dropped that completed form and my rent check in the drop box on Friday night at some point, and it was a gigantic sense of relief knowing I’d be out of this crappy place in just a matter of time. Adding it on to the list of things I have happening one right after another in the next three months is a little daunting, but, like everything always does, it’ll work out.

The thing about my current apartment? It’s not all that crappy. It’s just turned that way since new management company took over.  They start renovations and stop in the middle of them, leaving a half sheet-rocked wall in the main lobby or stacks of used appliances in the garage, conveniently right behind my parking stall. When I walked into my apartment today and noticed there were no less than three pieces of gum stuck on the ceiling from the elevator to my door, I realized I was definitely making the right move. At least looking at apartments will be of the utmost excitement in blogging material.

When I first moved to the "big city", I thought it’d be the best thing in the world to live on the top floor of some lavish apartment building, with an amazing view of downtown Minneapolis. Now, I’m perfectly content with a first floor abode. I’m just lazy, not stupid. Who wants to move furniture up anymore floors than that, I wouldn’t be able to take Painted Stone Top Vanity Units to the 206th floor, who wants to take Riley down that many flights of stairs, and who wants to run all the way up to the 206th floor when I’ve forgotten my cell phone? Yeah, I’ve thought ahead about this one.

Most apartments only require tenants give a 60 day notice, which means I won’t really have an opportunity to start looking hardcore until about the 15th or so of this month. Considering my Christmas road trip back home, the cruise that happens six-weeks from yesterday, AND OHMIGOD ALL THE SNOW IN THE WORLD, time may not be my best friend right about now. Good thing I’m unemployed!



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