…That’s what it’s felt like over here the past few days. We had to be out of the cottage Monday as per our lease so we didn’t get, y’know… ARRESTED. (More likely fined, but whatever.) This meant so much cleaning, moving, etc etc. The fact we are experiencing that lovely little heat wave hitting most of the country didn’t really help, if you can imagine.
In typical fashion, we worked right up until the deadline and didn’t get out of there until 6:15 Monday night. Then we had to immediately come over here and begin unpacking… which we’re actually still working on. Unpacking sucks. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.
In the middle of all this moving madness, I’ve been working on a project of sorts. It’s all still in the works, so the only thing I’ll say is that some fun changes are going to be happening over here at Early Twenties, so be on the look-out for that.
For now, I will leave you with the view from my desk, taken with Instagram. I’m still learning, but it’s a really cool app, and considering I know NOTHING about photography, it’s great for my dumb ass.
I have a confession to make. No, not like the last one.
It happened about a week ago, and ever since then, I feel like I’ve changed somehow. And not in an “I’m bettering myself through yoga and meditation” or kicking my caffeine habit kind of way. More of an “Oh, great, now I’ve got something else to take up my time and make me crazy.”
Curious what it is? Careful, I might get you hooked too…
I’ve found wedding blogs. I KNOW.
I guess I always knew they existed, and I’ve heard people chat about how they kick back on a Friday night, turn on TLC and sit down to read some wedding blogs. But I was never one of those girls!
I don’t even think I ever contemplated what my wedding would be like until I started going to weddings in high school. I know there’s that common thought that all little girls sit and dream about their wedding. Not this girl. I was too busy watching television or recording my own fake radio shows.
(Yeah, I did this as a child, and it was AWESOME. Don’t judge.)
So here I am, not even twenty-four, and combing over wedding blogs. … did I mention how engaged I’m NOT?
The thing is, they’re just so PRETTY. I could stare for hours at the beautiful pictures and the dresses and of course, most of all, the rings. I think you’ll have to start worrying about me when/if I begin coming up with lists (written, not mental. Cut me some slack, please!) of what I like and don’t like, dresses I want, locations that look great, etc.
Until then, these blogs will just be a fun foray into the world of “LOOK AT THE PRETTY!” and not seriously about planning my wedding.
Three guesses for how excited my boyfriend is about this.
Updates are still few and far between (obviously) because we are without cable and internet – or my two favorite things in life – until Monday. I seriously feel like I’m Amish. I would be a terrible Amish person! But I digress.
Since my resources are limited, I’m going to keep this short, but I wanted to share with you guys the story I alluded to last week. In order for this to make sense, I have to share two things:
I live in a metropolitan area that contains three cities and a few smaller towns. Let’s just say the city I’m in doesn’t have the best reputation. Despite having one of the best universities in the country under its belt, it’s also got a rap as being a bit dangerous.
The other thing you should know is that my office is pretty close to our cleaning lady. She comes in once a week, she’s great, and everyone always loves talking to her. She also fancies herself a clairvoyant. She makes money on the side giving readings over the phone and is kind of revered by the people she works with.
So when she was in the office last week, I asked her (jokingly) if I was going to kill anybody during my move. She said no, and that I was actually meant to move in April (I was supposed to do a LOT of things in April…). Then she confirmed where I was moving, which as it turns out, is around the proverbial corner from where she lives! Great, I’ll have a friend!
But she gets very serious and asks if my new place has an alarm system.
It does, so I told her that, and she proceeds to go on and tell me how where I live is not a great area. Well, it’s no Stepford, but our actual neighborhood is cookie cutter and seemingly normal. THEN. She tells me I should get pepper spray.
Please don’t say that to me.
I told her that when I asked our landlord if there had ever been any crime in our neighborhood, he said that people who left their cars unlocked had had them broken into.
Her response? “Yeah, he wasn’t being entirely truthful when he said that.”
GOOD GOD, I AM GOING TO DIE. (I have a gift for overreacting.)
Now, I don’t believe in psychics. I wish I did! I think it would be cool if someone could tell me what lotto numbers to pick, or when it was going to rain so I shouldn’t wear my flip-flops. But I just don’t. However. That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t freak me out to hear these things.
I couldn’t figure out if it was this “advice” was coming from a fellow neighbor or from a psychic. I probably should have gotten clarification.
But one week in and I’m still alive, so I’m feeling a bit better. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.
The time has finally come!
The townhouse is ours! We’ve got all of the heavy stuff over there (in record time, too!) and now begins the hundreds of millions of trips bringing all the kitchen/bathroom/bedroom things that will take millions of years.
And, oh… by the way… We won’t have cable or internet over there until the eleventh.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve met me (hi if this is your first time here!) but I cannot live without cable. Seriously. I work in tv, I’m not supposed to have to go a week without it. So, needless to say, I will be spending most of my time in the cottage until that situation gets rectified.
I will be back — hopefully soon! — with the rest of the moving day happenings, including a story about how one of my coworkers scared me to death about our new neighborhood.
(Spoiler alert: she’s a psychic.)
I have some very exciting news — we found a place to live!
My boyfriend and I found a gorgeous townhouse and will be moving in this weekend. I can’t wait!
We found it on Craigslist, which is really a godsend for apartment hunting. It is going to be a little different because we are renting from a private owner instead of in a complex. Going through the process, I’ve noticed a couple of things along the way:
- Renting from a private owner typically means rent will be lower. Because people usually just want to cover their mortgage, it means you’re paying less than you would at a complex (and therefore feel like you’re not throwing your money away as much).
- It does mean that your security deposit will be more expensive. That’s a hard realization I’m making. Our security deposit on our current apartment is a hundred and fifty bucks split three ways. At our new place? It’s one month’s rent. That coupled with the first month’s rent is a lot of money coming out of my pocket at once. Ouch.
- It is stated very clearly in our lease that we can’t make any changes to the apartment (including putting up a poster or anything that could alter the walls/ceiling/etc) without written permission from the owner. Kind of strict? And different from a complex that would give you putty and some paint before your move out.
- Once it’s gone, it’s gone. There isn’t that security of maybe getting a similar unit in the same location. That can be stressful.
- Rent increases suck – there’s no other way to say it. But by renting from a private owner, you have a lot less of a chance to see your rent increase after the first year. I am seriously looking forward to this.
I literally am dreading the packing process, though. We’re going to start tonight, and I think it will be the most painful process ever. (I’m a little melodramatic, it’s true.) But the light at the end of the tunnel is a BEAUTIFUL TOWNHOUSE, so I’ll make it work somehow.
Anybody else have experience renting from a private owner? How do you think it compares to renting from an apartment complex?
So, if you remember, this whole blog started right as I was making the transition into my faaabulous apartment and moving in with my boyfriend and our roommate. Well, I don’t know how this happened, but it’s now ELEVEN MONTHS LATER (seriously, time flies), and the hunt has begun for a new apartment.
Because my roommate is going to grad school next year, and because my boyfriend and I want a place to ourselves, it’s naturally changing up our needs from last year when we were searching. It’s no secret that I adore finding a place to live, so I was really excited!
The only problem was – my boyfriend and I couldn’t agree on what we needed. On the one hand, we were looking at super trendy apartments in chic areas, but they were so expensive that we could only afford a one bedroom. Going from a three bedroom to a one bedroom was just not going to happen… the boy and I have way too much stuff, no matter how stunning the apartment is.
I wanted to stay in our current complex because it’s beautiful, and I love it, but ultimately, the two bedroom apartments were reasonable, but the townhouse was way out of our budget. Tragic.
We took a tour of a two bedroom at our runner up complex from last year. It is absolutely breathtaking with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances — the whole place is gorgeous, but it was just too small.
…Not to mention the fact that we made the decision a few weeks ago to buy an ENORMOUS sectional couch. This thing is a beast. And now it’s kind of dictating where we can live because it’s got to fit somewhere.
So! The search has been on. I’m using all of my typical resources: Craigslist, Google Maps (a really great way to find complexes in a particular area), and Apartment Ratings.com. I really do love apartment shopping.
Clearly, I should be in real estate or something.
Friends. Confidants. I have something to confess to you.
My absence around these parts? I can easily explain it. Okay, maybe easily is a bit much, because it’s effing embarrassing. But I am going to let you in on a little secret.
You’ve probably heard about problems that occur in a relationship like The Boyfriend Diet (thanks, Lauren!) where you begin eating like your Sig O. I am going through something a little bit different.
The reason I have been super hard to reach is because… I have been playing a video game.
My boyfriend and I have been kind of obsessively been playing this game Fallout for the past few weeks. I grew up playing video games with my dad, so it’s not totally out of character for me, but still. I didn’t think it would come to… this.
How did this happen? How did I become the girl who couldn’t wait to get home and turn on the Xbox?
I’m not gonna lie, it’s really fun, and the fact that I have quite a few friends that are hopping on the video game train makes me feel a little less lame.
But playing this game is seriously cutting into my television watching time.
I’ve still got priorities.
Please tell me someone can relate. I can’t be the ONLY one.