About two and a half years into my separation, I made the decision to move for a third time. When I first moved out, I found a nice townhouse in the same town so it would be easy on the kids. It was in good condition, and I was hoping to stay there longer. Unfortunately for me, the landlord decided to sell the place, and so I quickly had to find another place to rent.
Because I live in a highly sought after area with some of the best schools in the nation, it was extremely difficult to find a 3-bedroom home that also allow pets. My kids were not driving at the time, so it was important to me that I remain within walking or biking distance of their other home. Finally I landed one. It was an older single family home that seemed a bit run down, but it was in a great location. I snapped it up quickly as it seemed to fit my needs on paper, and I had to find something that would work with the timing since I needed to move out of the townhouse.
“A bit rundown” was an understatement. The second place I lived in ended up being a dump. There was issue after issue. Roof issues, failing appliances, plumbing issues, and a basement that just plain had “bad energy” in it. No one wanted to go down there, and even the dog freaked out when she did venture downstairs.
I was constantly reaching out to the landlord and to his “not-so handyman.” They were painfully slow in getting back to me or showing up at agreed upon times, despite the fact that I left work early or arranged to work from home on a particular day to be there for the repairs.
The final straw for me was that there was raw sewage in the tub in the basement. The landlord sat on it for weeks before he did anything at all. On several occasions, he got the cheapest person he could find to come out to fix it. Or he even tried it himself. None of that worked for long. He wasn’t willing to pay the money to get a qualified, licensed plumber. Finally, he hired a real plumber who told him he needed to dig up the pipes in the front yard and replace it all. There was a blockage way out in the yard, and the pipes were not fully connected.
At that point, the landlord (who owned 3-4 homes) told me that he couldn’t afford to do that right away. So after dealing with this for close to six months, I became not only disgusted and over it, I was also concerned for the health of my family. I knew we had to move out.
By this time, I had a little more flexibility on location. I wanted to be nearby, but my kids were close to driving age, so close enough would work. After a relatively short search, I found a 2-level condo in walking distance of a Metro stop. It was only about 4 years old, and the unit had a garage, vaulted ceilings, 2.5 bathrooms, and a killer master bed and bath. And it was only $100 more per month.
The problem was by now, I was living with virtually no savings, so to come up with $2,300 for a security deposit, $1,800 in moving costs, and other miscellaneous expenses was more than I could swing. So for the first time in my adulthood, I asked my parents for a loan. My parents would do anything for me, but I have always taken great pride in paying my own way. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do. Even though they are retired and living on a fixed income, my mom had some money tucked away, and she gave me the $2,000 I needed. And I offered to pay her back a couple of months later, but she told me to keep it. I am eternally grateful to my mom and dad for their generosity and so thankful that I have people in my life who I can turn to if I ever need it. But I want to make changes now so that it is the last time I ever need to.