Teeny Tiny

Well, a development has occurred.

M.M. and I are going to move in together; or rather, she is going to move into my one-bedroom apartment in N. Portland.

I love the apartment's location so much, and I feel pretty strongly that I never again want to take on a new landlord. The idea is that my sweetie and I live in this tiny apartment together with three cats and two bikes and lots of art-making equipment until the time comes when I can buy a house. I can save up a little extra change this way.

BUT, it signifies a big shift in my life; a very close/intimate cohabitation with someone by choice instead of necessity. We could have moved somewhere larger and more expensive, easy. No problem. But I love where I live and I want to make this work.

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Also, met with Millynn last night. It was a little different than I expected-- she is very bright and knows a lot about houses and all that good stuff, but on a personal level she was a little scattered. She had poked a stick through her eyeball (accidentally) and a friend was just getting out of the psych ward and in the mid-80's a sociopathic girlfriend screwed her out of a real estate deal, etc. But she likes pygmy goats and houses built in the 1920's, and i like both those things too. We'll continue to feel it out.

There's a totally run-down house across the street from Interstate Lanes (the bowling alley kitty-corner from Fat Cobra adult video) that, of course, has captured my imagination and I want Millynn to check on it and tell me all of the things that are wrong with it. And then, if I remain undaunted, I will look at it on Sunday after I complete my Homebuying 101 course.

I need to buy some bookcases.

Biked to St. John's today and napped in the grass at Cathedral Park, under the bridge.  

Attended a totally awkward picnic where I had to make small talk with someone who, gotta tell you, I just totally detest.  Gross!  Ew!  But it was fine and M.M. and I biked away and all was well.

St. John's would be a fine place to buy a home, I suppose.  The commute is a little forever, but it's nice out there... a fine and cliff-dwelling place to set my sights.

Meh to feelings.  My cat watches birds.

Saturday coffee and sounds of lawnmowers.  Or is it a weedwhacker?  

I'm reading a book by the National Association of REALTORS (their capital letters) telling me that I should probably be making $17,000 more per year (gross) before I start looking for a shitty 1-bedroom hovel in Gresham.

But I persist.  Today's plan includes looking for bookshelves on Craigslist and giving space to M.M. so that she can decide if she wants to move herself and her two cats into my 1-bedroom apartment.  It would be tight, but I'd save a bunch of money.  Life is imperfect and I'm kind of tired of searching for places to live.  I'd rather get rid of a bunch of my stuff and make room for someone else.  I love this neighborhood, this proximity to everything.  I want to live it out as much as possible.  

I would not be able to afford an inhabitable house anywhere around here, I don't think.  Far N Portland, like West/North of St. John's, is probably the closest thing I could afford.  This process really is going to force me away from my tendency for jealousy, otherwise I'll be jealous of all 12,000 houses between my current apartment and where I'll eventually live.  Jealousies like "oh you motherfucker, you fucking bought a house with your parent's money that you don't deserve".  I need to shut up with that business, because it does not bring Positive Energy into my life.

Positive Energy.  Drink another cup of coffee.  Meeting M.M. at the Alberta Arts Hop at 2 p.m., near Vita Cafe.  

Maybe I will get a hanging indoor plant or plant the sunflower seeds today. Must borrow shovel.

I'M GOING TO BUY A HOUSE.

I've decided that I really am going to buy a house.

I allow myself the fullest range of waffling on this decision, but hear me, right here right now:  Today is the official day that I officially begin my search.  

I called Millynn James, a local lesbian realtor whose MSRP search engine I've been secretly using for the past two years.  She sounds kinda gruff on the phone, but she laughed at my neurotic jokes, so that's a good sign.  We're going to meet in person on Tuesday, like a blind date that ends with a giant mortgage payment instead of marriage.

So what I'm thinking here is that I'm going to start using/writing this blog again, knowing that most likely no one in the universe is reading it, so that I have a stable place to pour out my day-to-day tragedies of the extensive and harrowing first-time home-buying process.  It's a way to validate and reify the fact that I am, indeed, throwing my "oh I might suddenly move to Germany" despondency to the wind and hunkering down to the possibility of homeownership.

M.M. is, of course, roped into all this.  Her grad school debt is so fucking epic that she would never be able to actually help me buy the place, but she can move in with me and help me pay rent.  And, AND, it should be noted because I am notoriously selfish, I am looking for a place with a nice yard so M.M. can raise chickens.  

Enough room for chickens, and no fucking granite countertops, for under $180,000, within walking distance of non-Starbucks coffee, West of 42nd and North of Alberta.  as long as I buy within the next seven months, I don't think that's too much to ask.

Famous last words.  I'll keep you posted.