Tag Archives: rent

All I need…

1 Aug

They say Sagittarians are brutally honest people. Hmmm hmmm. Well, I wasn’t so honest about sneaking Sparky into my condo on weekends. And for this, my sun sign got the best of me and forced me to man up, confess, and beg my landlord for mercy.

When I discussed the matter with Harold, my landlord, he completely understood my situation but reminded me that I chose to rent a place that didn’t allow pets. But he’d think about it.

He called me later and told me he’d allow me to have Sparky there on weekends provided I pay $1000 more in deposit and $150 per more in rent. I told him I’d have to rethink this a bit, I mean, seriously, $150 more per month for my little 8 pound yorkie?

Then he called again. Guess his lawyer (who calls a lawyer about stuff like this anyway?) said it would be a bad investment for him and that Harold should deny my request.

Here we go again. Gotta move. Again. So not looking forward to that – I have accumulated a lot of stuff since getting my own place. And with the packing and moving we did for the cabin in May┬ástill fresh in my memory, I started thinking I’d have to consider not letting Sparky stay with me. Oh, not to mention breaking my lease would cost me a shit ton if we couldn’t sort this out.

Isn’t he the cutest motherflippin dog?

So I wrote a 5 page letter to Harold and his wife. Complete with my sob story and pictures of me with Sparky, and candids of Sparky lying in the sun and frollicking in the grass. And I reminded Harold that he asked me to rent that condo because he knows that I would keep it pristine. You know, it’s “the devil you know” angle.

It worked! He wrote back “Dear Sparky’s Mommy”, and agreed to let me have Sparky stay and even reduced the monthly rent add-on to just $50!

I’m glad I don’t have to repeat the whole moving experience. At least for now. And it turns out, which cracks me the fuck up, that Sparky, who whimpers to get me to help him up on the couch, can actually jump up on my bed when I’m not there.

That little stinker.

I heart this boy with all my love…

I’ll be picking him up for a long weekend with me tomorrow and whereas in the past, I’d worry about him when I’d leave him alone, this weekend, I’ll know he’s happy as a clam all burrowed in my pillows.

All I need right now is the warmth of his breath and the softness of his touch to make me smile.


It feels right…

15 Aug

I’ve never lived alone. I married young and moved from my mother’s place to my husbands. And while I’ve been renting a room for the last couple of months, it’s just a room – no kitchen – and is part of the Valley Hillbillies house. So doesn’t qualify in my humble opinion as “living alone”.

But at long last, I found the place that I will call my home for the next year. It’s a condo close to my office and not in the biggity O (for those that have followed my urban vision quest.) My mother is happy knowing that I have reduced the chance of rape and murder. She’s optimistic this way.

Anyhoohaw, I move in this Friday and I’m getting pretty excited. I bought a brand new bed and stuff and plan to cook my first meal that night. Comcast and PG&E are ready to go so I’ll have lights and wifi! Oh, and I’m taking the Jura Capressa Impressa Z5 espresso machine from the hubby. #cuziamacoffeewhore

Possibly the biggest decision I’ll have to make is what the hell to cook for my first night there. Must decide if I splurge before Friday and buy a gas grill for the patio, because I reallyreallyreally want grilled lamb chops (marinated in good olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, and lemon). And a greek salad. And maybe some chocolate for dessert. I can live without a couch, kitchen table and lamps on day 1 – but must have in no particular order: good food, vodka, coffee. The rest will work itself out over time.

Of course, The Rockstar offered to cook for me, cuz he haz mad skillz in the kitchen. But for my first night, I’ll be pickled and tickled and doing it for me, my way, hell yes. Rockstar can cook Saturday!! (Please and thanks!)

The idea of my very own place, with just me in it, fills me with satisfaction and fear. It’s been a rocky couple of weeks, with the reality of my separation settling in and warring against the newness of not being married and dependent. I’ve been making a good number of decisions lately based on instinct. I’ve been saying “you just know”. I think people need to listen to themselves more and stop questioning so much.

My life. One day at a time. It just feels right.

Narrowing it down…

9 Aug

So the biggity O tour bus started a couple weeks ago. I’ve been dragging The Rockstar with me who has been patient and courteous and objective. He’ll hate that I shared how nice he’s been, given he wants to be seen as all badass and whatnot. Whoopsies.

Anyhoohaw, we’ve checked out Jack London, Lake Merritt and a whole lotta crappy apartments. NO BUENO. The only one I was tempted to lease has a shit load of steep stairs which, given my tendency to teeter totter and fall down is NO BUENO. Plus, a bus runs down it, and so do vagrants with natty hair.

So this threw me into a tail spin. The Rockstar asked patiently “What do you want in an apartment?”

Me: Ground floor, covered parking, fireplace, patio, in unit washer/dryer, sound proof bathroom…

RS: *raising an eyebrow over the poddy comment*

Me: I think I have to give up my dream of the urban lifestyle.

RS: Lake Merritt is not really urban.

So I gots to thinking about why I wanted urban. I really want to walk out my front door and walk to a cafe – or a bar. Cuz I’m a coffeewhore and a vodkawhore – in that order usually.

There better be coffee there... Or vodka...

Hmmm – now thinking I should look at leasing an apartment in the downtown of a suburb. One that will allow me to avoid breaking a bone, lets me share custody with my dogglies, and walk to a nearby strip mall. For coffee. Or booze. Yeah, maybe that’s the plan.

You know the best part of all of this though – instead of someone telling me what I should do, I was offered the opportunity to figure it out. Of course, this plan must execute soon. I gave my landlord notice on 8/1.

The Big O…

29 Jul

Gee, what on earth could this post be about? Shopping at Overstock.com? Or maybe something a bit more risque and bawdy? For those of you that know me even a little I’m a dirty shoe whore with emphasis on the dirty part. So I cannot blame you for any mistaken conclusions on this post’s title.

But alas, this post is about finding an apartment. My place for the last 6 weeks has been temporary – and I’ve made arrangements to share a place with Tamara, a friend from high school who has been held captive in Chicago for IDK a couple decades?!

Tamara is a wild child. She’s gonna rip my inner freak apart fo sho. I can’t wait for her to get here and for us to slap some mayhem all over the Bay Area. And oddly, I’m kinda scared of the damage we’re gonna do.

And while Tam and I grew up in the burbs, and I’ve lived in posh-town for a long time, it’s time for me to abandon the safe and sleepy burbs for a more urban dwelling. But where? Hmmmm. Thinking. Thinking.

*Forehead smack* Of course!! Oakland. (Did your jaw just drop?)

It’s urban, I don’t have to cross any bridges to get to work, and it’s close to family. It’s the biggity fucking O is what it is, yo.

When I told my mother, she started doing research into statistics. Murder and rape statistics that is. SMH. She also said “isn’t that conveniently close to The Rockstar?” Okay, there is maybe just a hair of truth in that…

Yes, this is OAKLAND!So really why Oakland? I guess working in the biggity O for 14 years is one reason. Another is my need to push myself into giving something radically new a try. Going from a sprawling suburban custom home to living in the biggity O is well, pushing myself pretty far.

This weekend, I’ll be pounding the streets looking at not just places to live, but this time, really looking around. Eyes up and focused on what’s in front of me. For me, it’s gonna be an interesting test of what I think I can live with. Or without.

Living on the edge…

28 Jun

Thank god for friends. Or thank Facebook really.

When I left my husband and house, I hadn’t first made a plan – I was literally packed for a trip but had nowhere to go. I started running the names of all my friends through my head and weeding out the names of friends who were ‘couple friends’ when the name Juli popped in there.

Juli is a friend of mine from high school who I lost touch with at 19 and reconnected oh-like-a-nano-second-ago via Facebook. We got together ONCE for drinks about 2 months ago. But… she is so laid back and it really felt like no time had passed. So when I called and asked if I could stay for a couple weeks, there were no questions asked – she said of course. Still amazed by this. Juli and her family are abfab wonderful and welcomed me and seriously let me come and go as I needed.

I knew I needed to find some place to live though. I really only wanted something temporary while figuring out what the hell we were going to do about the assets we spent a quarter of a century building up. Plus, I had made some long-range plans to share an apartment with another long-time friend who’s moving back to Cali from Chicago in the fall.

A room with a view...

So in the end I found a room to rent closer to my work. It’s actually quite nice – it’s a furnished master bedroom that’s been walled off from the house with an unobstructed view of the valley and a private entrance. And a fridge! So I moved in over this past weekend.

And amidst some drama (a) like staying at my house while the hubby went out of town (b) a swarm of bees building a nest in my attic (c) my dog Buddy getting stung by a bee on his paw (baby is fine) – I was able to get my shit together and all moved in so I’d have a place to call my own. After all, I’ve never lived alone. Never. NEVER.

Here’s the joy: When I went shopping for groceries, for the first time I was able to only think of what I wanted and that I didn’t have to stick to what I knew. Did I like colby cheese? Hmmm. What about Laughing Cow cheese triangles? So I bought them. And it was fucking awesome. And by ‘it’ I mean the ability to try something new.