Home to Me

Well I did it. I signed a lease this weekend on an apartment. It was the very first apartment I looked at weeks ago, and everything I viewed since then was just to comparison shop or to try to talk me out of it.

It's on the west side (the building states it's Upper West Side, but let's face it. This isn't New York). It's the largest apartment I've had in the city at over 800 square feet. It's also the nicest with a foyer, granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, nice cabinetry, and spacious closets. The garden tub could easily fit two. Breakfast is also provided every Saturday morning for all the residents.

The building security is pretty tight. Not only is the parking garage gated and locked, but all the stairwells and elevators also require an access card. I guess it would be annoying for visitors to constantly have to be buzzed in, but with the crime of my last neighborhood (and the lack of visitors I'll likely have) this is a welcome change.

Before I looked for an apartment, I decided on a maximum rental payment that I would not go over. This rent is a dollar beneath my maximum. I tried to find an apartment that was cheaper, and I viewed some, but I didn't love them as much as I loved this one. And I justified it by telling myself after everything I've been through, I deserve an apartment that I love. I'm still not sure that this was the right decision. Although with this building I'm avoiding a gas bill and my good credit score was my deposit, so it's all relative I guess.

The only catch was to get the apartment I wanted for the price I wanted, I had to take the next available apartment instead of them holding it for me therefore losing profit. Instead of moving in a month, I move in two weeks. which in my head was a lot faster than I was prepared for.

After I left the leasing office, I drove straight to the furniture store and picked out a new bedroom set. My old hand-me-downs were in pretty bad shape so I sold them at a yard sale last month. I picked out a new bed, nightstand, and armoire with the intention of adding a dresser when I can afford it. I financed 40% of it for a year with no interest and I wrote a check for the rest.

I've never bought new furniture before. It felt weird to point at things lined up against a wall and have a middle-aged salesman running around to assist me. He measured things when I requested it and he worked it up with the dimensions of my new bedroom. I am not used to being catered to.

I'm also not used to spending that much money. With the rent and the new furniture, I hit the top of my financial security. I worry that I spent too much money. I haven't been in debt in for a while and I worry that the $1,200 I financed will break me. I'm worried that I'll run through my savings.

Even still, my new rent is still cheaper than the rent at the apartment I had with Scott (which I got stuck paying more often than not). And water and electricity for one will be less.

I guess I'm just scared. Of living by myself again. Of becoming lonely. I'm moving out to avoid living with the stress and repercussions of my mother's impending divorce and I'm afraid it won't make me happy. I ran around this weekend and made all of these decisions like it was my god-given right, and now I'm terrified of the consequences.

What if they weren't the right decisions?