The Woes of Apartment Hunting
I had originally included this in my “Goings On” post, but decided that it warranted it’s own post. Hence, two posts in one day.
When Shan and I moved into our current apartment, we had hoped that we would not move again until we were ready to buy. Moving is not fun, and moving yearly is especially annoying. There are just so many things to do: forward the mail, change your address, tell your friends & family that once again you live somewhere new! Unfortunately, we have been faced with this necessity.
There are a couple of reasons that we’d LIKE to move, and one reason that we HAVE to move. We’d like to move because of our location. When we were hunting for an apartment last time around, we had certain limiting factors that narrowed our options. We ended up living a few miles outside of our ideal neighborhood. Now, where we live now is by no means a bad neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. It is just not our ideal neighborhood. Another reason we’d like to move is that our apartment is situated in a poor location in the complex. We are on the first floor, and apparently a moose or two lives above us. Our windows face a fairly busy parking lot, which necessitates that they be constantly closed with blinds drawn. Anyone parking their car would see right into our private world with the most casual sideways glance, and this is a fact I simply cannot get over. A third reason is that since we have been here, upkeep has markedly decreased. The formerly attractive little ponds are now consistently half-full and unattended-looking. The bushes are overgrown for months at a time. The grass is uncut until it is noticeably shaggy.
We do recognize that want and need are two different things, and most likely would not be moving if it wasn’t for the final factor. The rent has dropped dramatically in the past year, and the resulting natural changes have occurred in the complex. For this reason above all others, we have come to the conclusion that we simply cannot stay.
A month or so ago, I began to look at the different complexes in our ideal neighborhood. Shan and I had this fairly large area of town in mind as being the only place we would move to if we were in the position to move again. Kind of the idea that if you can’t have what you want, why make a change? Looking at complexes in this area, however, was no small task. I would guess that there were roughly 20 complexes to choose from. I carefully researched each complex online, and then made a decision about which ones I’d visit. I visited about 10, and then decided to visit them all. It’s best to be informed, right? I looked at a couple a day during lunch or if I had a meeting in the area, and made a mental note of the ones that I liked.
My conditions were fairly simple. I wanted someplace fairly expensive, to ensure the quality would not degrade like our current apartment. I also wanted to get my money’s worth, either in the apartment itself or in the community and neighborhood. I’m fairly confident that we ended up getting both in the end.
After my little Tour de Overland Park, I narrowed it down to two complexes. Well, that is to say, I only felt that two complexes were worth dragging Shan to. In fact, they were the only two that even made the list…I’m telling you, I was being Picky with a capital P. Shan looked at them both, as I did for the second time. After a second look, it was an easy decision to make.
The place we chose has everything we want. The interior is well done. The complex is beautiful. The amenities are top-notch. The neighborhood is perfect. Our patio has a gate that leads to a 25-mile walking trail, which winds around the neighboring golf course. Our windows face the trail, a creek and trees.
We also have to wait an additional two months to get in. I'm taking this as a good sign, though. After all, it can easily be assumed that a long wait to get an apartment means this is a nice place at which people enjoy to live. So, we have concluded that we shall just live in our current place two months longer than expected and wanted. It might be nice to have all that time to prepare, anyway.
Hopefully, we’ve learnt our lesson. As Shan’s friend Lindsay put it over drinks last time she was in town, there comes a time when you realize that you just have to pay more to get what you want. We’re definitely paying for the neighborhood, but I firmly believe that it is a very, very sound decision. I think we’ve learnt that in order to get a place that’ll make you happy for more than a year, you have to weigh all the factors. You can’t just rent a place in an OK neighborhood because you like how much square footage you get for your money. If you do, you’ll end up being like us, disappointed to see the place going sharply downhill and being nothing like what you hoped. And, although it's draining to think of moving again, we are glad to do it. This time we're hiring movers, though!
Goings On
I don't really have the will to post much anymore, and it may be because life hasn't been all that terribly interesting lately. Every day seems to merge into the previous and next...It might be the time of year, being as it's in between holidays and interesting things to do, or because it's not quite winter and not quite spring. It might be a general lack of desire to go do anything lately, or it may plain be that blogging has bored me as of late. Whatever the reason, I haven't felt the need. Anyway, it's not as though I have a massive readership.
However, since it's 1am and I can't sleep, I think I shall just post regardless of how interesting it is.
First subject: St. Paddy's. Good day.
It began the night before St. Paddy's, when I went with my mother to attend a trad session and dinner at the Marriott downtown. The music was great. The singer was Eddie Delahunt, a friend of Mom's, a local favorite and someone I've heard often. Mom made him two huge loaves of soda bread, which went over quite well. Dinner fare was, of course, corned beef and cabbage. This was somehow the very first time I'd had corned beef. I have to say, I'm not really a fan. It was kind of chewy and tasted like bologna.
The next day, I worked the morning, having tried unsuccessfully all week to get someone to cover me. See, I originally intended not to take off at all seeing as St. Paddy's is on a Friday this year. However, since I'm only working there for another week and have a lot of sick time built up, I figured I'd call in sick. Unfortunately, in my line of work, you can't just call in sick. You have to get your obligations taken care of by others, or else some child or parent is left very, very disappointed. I was unable to find coverage, so I had to work until 1pm.
I then went to what used to be an authentic Irish pub, McBride's, with Shan's mom. Back in the day, the pub was run by an Irish immigrant. Mom and all her immigrant friends would often meet up there to celebrate various things. About a year ago, they built a second location in another part of the city, and all the real Irish moved up there to hang out. Now, the place has turned pretty silly. Example one was my lunch. On the menu was a sandwich that they claimed was a real, Irish banger sandwich. I ordered this, having been granted a dispensation by my Archbishop. It wasn't a banger, and when the waiter asked how it was, I told him, "Well, it's not an Irish banger but whatever it is, it's good." He informed me that it was a Johnsonville. I then saw someone nearby be presented with what had been purported to be a scone. It looked more like a dinner roll. Example two, it was St. Paddy's, and it was an Irish pub, but neither of the live musicians played Irish music. They sang Jewel and The Beatles and American Pie. Example three, I saw not one but two Guinesses come to the table unfinished. Apparently the bartender had just poured the thing once and had not even bothered to let it settle before sending it to the table.
By the time Shan and his friends got around to coming, it was one-in-one-out. They didn't feel like standing in line, so we left and joined them up the street at another bar. After a couple of hours, we proceeded back to a friend's house to grill out and watch the basketball game. Once I remind you that I'm a Jayhawk fan, you'll know what that didn't turn out to be a good time. The night in general was very fun though, mainly because of the steady flow of alcohol and good company. I even managed to stop drinking early enough to get Shan and I home, and avoid the "passing out on the floor of a friend's house" scenario!
Second subject: My car.
My lovely little putter arounder is going to be paid off very soon, and I'm feeling the pride of ownership. After all, I bought the car practically new (it was three months old) all by myself when I was 22. As a result of my newfound interest in my car, I've had a couple of things fixed that needed to be for a while. First was my previously mentioned wheel bearings. Second was the sole cosmetic default: a nasty little crack that split the grill of my front bumper right in half. When I was in Europe, my car lived at my mom's. I left with the express instruction that my vehicularly irresponsible youngest brother, who is car-obsessed and lives with Mom, not be allowed anywhere near the driver's seat. I came home to find that my precious little brother had driven the car, slid in the rain, and cracked the front end against a gutter. I, of course, told him that he was going to be held responsible for fixing the bumper. Since he was in school at the time, I decided to let it go for a while. When he dropped out of school, began working full time, and continued to live rent-free at home, I decided not to let it go anymore. After about a year of occasionally nagging him about it, he finally replaced my front bumper. It's really soothing to have a whole car again!
Third subject: People from high school who made it.
I know of just one. I found out recently that a guy I "dated" in high school wrote and directed Saw 2. I put quotes around the "dated" because we didn't really date. We went on one date, to the mall, and his mom drove because we were both 14. We also hung out a school a lot and talked on the phone. I think after that we may have been friends for a while, but I can't really remember. That's not an insult to him; it's just a testament to how awful my memory is. Anyway, he's the only person from school that I've heard of having done anything even kind-of famous. Well, except the girl who had a scene with Doogie Howser (AKA NPH) in the movie My Antonia back in middle school. So, congratulations Darren Bousman and I hope you go far!
Anywho, it's now 1:55am and I stink at conclusions, so I'm just going to publish this now.
Our First Tornado
We had our first tornadoes of the year in KC today. I love severe weather.
It came earlier than normal it seems, although I have to say I don't exactly keep track. Could be that we get tornadoes this early every year and I just don't pay attention.
There was nothing too near my home, although when the tornadoes hit nearby the sirens went off. I knew there was a storm and that it was bad, because the sky was yellow and green as usually accompanies bad spring storms. I didn't pay attention to the sirens much, though, because tornadoes never hit too close to the city.
This time, they hit right smack in the middle of Lawrence (thankfully not damaging Badtouch's home too much) and took the roof off of a hotel a bit west and north of us. I did, unfortunately, sustain some hail damage to my car. Crapola.
I love severe weather, though. I love when the streetlights come on at 2pm, and the sky gets all green and starts rotating around. I remember one time there was a crazy rotation on top of my and Shan's apartment building and we were sure a funnel was about to drop right on top of us. One time I sat on my friend's roof and watched a tornado drop right onto Clinton Lake, which was about 5 miles from us. I love when the thunder shakes the walls and the winds start blowing like nuts. It freaks a lot of people out, but it's like crack for me. Did I spell crack right?
Friday and Lent
So, St. Paddy's is on a Friday this year and it's causing some angst amongst some American Irish.
Corned beef and cabbage is a staple of American Irish fare. While corned beef is unheard of in Ireland, it does have valid Irish roots. In Ireland, ham (or bacon, as it's called) is served after being heavily salted and boiled. It's yummy. It's also hard to find here. I imagine it was even more difficult when the waves of Irish immigrants were flooding the U.S. during the potato famine. So, they began eating corned beef, which from what I've been told is a decent substitute.
So, corned beef is staple fare, and is also meat. St. Paddy's is on Friday, and it's Lent. Almost all Irish are Catholics, and Catholics fast from meat on Fridays in Lent. You can see the dilemma.
This is an inconvenience, but it is after all only one year. It's not like they can't have a corned beef and cabbage dinner on Thursday night. It's kind of annoying to me, because I can't make my usual fry-up for dinner that night. I guess I'll have it on Thursday night. Not a big deal.
Smoking
Two months since quitting smoking. Still not interested in cigarettes. How did I get so lucky? I've heard horror stories of quitting smoking. I've heard it's probably the most difficult addiction to conquer. So how is it that I've had smoothe sailing? I haven't even WANTED a cigarette (that is, I haven't wanted a cigarette while sober). Even when I'm drinking I rarely want a cigarette. I guess I was just ready. Or was it that I never really smoked much anyway?
I guess if you had the habit of putting a smoke in your mouth 20 times a day, it would be more difficult than if you had only smoked a couple of times a day. I've never been able to do that without getting sick. Maybe that's what's making it so easy...I don't think my body every really got used to smoking. The first time I had a cigarette, it was in the backseat of my friend Jen's car, in high school. She was driving and my boyfriend at the time was riding shotgun. They both smoked, and I smoked too. You know, to be cool. Ah, the teenage mind. I became really ill after I smoked it. It took a good 30 minutes for the dizziness and nausea to go away. Of course, the whole time I wasn't letting on that I was about to spew.
I definitely became addicted. If I didn't smoke, my lungs would get this funny, uncomfortable feeling that my mind told me could only be cured by a cigarette. If I didn't have one, sometimes it would go away and sometimes it would get worse. I never really could smoke very often, though. I'd get sick off it if I smoked in the morning. Sometimes if I smoked too much I'd go a day or two without smoking, because the thought of it would gross me out. I never really craved cigarettes during the day too much. I'd have the occasional smoke at lunchtime (maybe once a week), but otherwise I only wanted to smoke in the evenings. And then, it was usually two smokes. Four if I was going crazy. Any more than that, and they'd make me sick. So, for the entirety of my life as a smoker, I never moved up in quantity like most people. Don't get me wrong...like everyone else, I could go through a whole pack while drinking.
So I probably shouldn't be too surprised how easily I just stopped one day. I suppose my brain was smarter than me the whole time, and never really wanted to smoke.
Scary Life Decisions
Onward and upward, as my mother says.
I accepted a new job today. Some may be surprised, as I’ve made it pretty clear that I adore my current job. Trust me, it wasn’t an easy decision to make. I do love my current job. The thing is, this new job is a better opportunity for me professionally.
The first factor was education. Where I work now, I couldn’t have moved up the ladder any further without getting a Master’s in Social Work. In order to do the job that is the next level up, one must be a licensed social worker. I’m not, because I don’t have the required bachelor’s in social work to become licensed. So, I’d have to go back to school for a social work degree. This means money and time, not to mention the fact that I’d be stuck where I am in the meantime. At the new job, you don’t have to be a licensed social worker to move up. A Psych degree will do just fine. Now, I do intend at some point to go get an MSW, but I like the fact that I can further my career in the meantime at this new employer.
The second factor was the almighty dollar. This new position is paid more, in both actual salary and benefits. Higher mileage reimbursement, cell phone reimbursement, more health coverage, more money in the paycheck. All of these are good things.
So, I’ll be leaving foster care and beginning to work for the county mental health center. I’ll be working a case load of severely emotionally disturbed children, or SED children. This may sound scary, but it’s really not such a big deal. Mostly it’ll be kids with PTSD, Bipolar disorder, etc..
Anyway, wish me luck!
