Things That Scare Me

Okay back to the scary thing that is living alone.  I feel wimpy admitting that this scares me because I've lived alone before.  At age 19.  In a foreign country.  With no other American students from back home.  THIS should not scare me, but it does.  Perhaps it's because--for the past 6 years--I've lived in the good company of either amazing college roommates or family.  Or perhaps it's because of my less-than-comforting first night.  Let me explain.

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Remodel All the Things!

My dad has this little habit of overdoing things.  What starts out as a simple, easy plan will morph--without fail--into a more elaborate version of itself.  We affectionately poke fun at him by quoting this scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation whenever an "easy" plan is on the brink of complication. I think I have to stop making fun of him because I've realized that I'm cut from the same damn cloth.  Let me explain.

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No One Is Going to Do It For You

Big news on the suburban front!  After months upon months of house condo hunting, the headache of securing financing and scraping together the last little bits of a downpayment,  I am the proud owner of my first lil' home.  Fi. Nal. Y.  It has been a hectic couple of days, starting with last Friday's final walk-through and closing. This last stretch progressed relatively smoothly, which you'd never imagine given the hurricane of activity leading up to signing the papers.  The hardest part of it all was handing over the check for the downstroke and closing costs.  That check represented three years of God-awful commutes, hefty overtime and lost sleep.  All of that sweat equity summed up into this small little check that took 2.5 seconds to hand over.  Surely the closing agent had no idea the value of what she held in her hand.  How could she possibly?

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Bull By the Horns...or Something Like That

After whats seems like a 18 straight months of the the what-if game (What if I move in with a friend/rando on Craigslist/rent a studio?  What if I live in the city/burbs?  What if I bought a place?), I stopped playing.  Granted, it's a good practice to force yourself to look at all possibilities.  At the end of the day, though, you have to ask yourself just one question:  What do I want? The answer came easily.  I want to move out, and downtown because my commute blows. I also want to buy, and I've saved enough to swing it.

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Napkin Math

Time for some napkin math. For the past 2 years, 5 months and 15 days, I have commuted into the city from the 'burbs.

My commute--counting the time I leave my parents' house to the time I walk into work--is 2 hours, one way.  That is 4 hours per day.

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