Accomodations

The day after leaving, I found a place to rent. I was that lucky. It was a sweet little house with all the space we needed and a large backyard. The catch was that it was for sale. It could be sold out from under us at any time. The uncertainty sucked but it seemed a less and less likely scenario as time passed and we started to settle in.  In the fall, my landlord and I had a chat. He seemed content with me living there and with no prospective buyers, he was going to be taking the house off the market. What a relief. A constant, stable home for at least the winter as I waited to get the equity out of the marital home. I immediately broke down the fifty boxes I had held onto over the summer. With an enormous sense of satisfaction, I put them out with the recycling the next morning.

That afternoon, I wished I hadn't. A call from my landlord had me reeling. He had received and accepted an offer on the home. This despite the fact that there hadn't been any showings all summer. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I kept thinking about all those damned boxes I had just put to the curb. I had sixty days to find a new place to live. My landlord wasn't unkind, it was business. He felt badly, of this I'm sure. But not badly enough to turn down making money. He offered to help me find a new place to live, no doubt hoping that I would chose one of the other properties he had for rent around town. Properties that weren't for sale, I might add.

He provided me with the names and numbers of other people around town with places to rent. I called them all. I contacted a realtor and I went to see every single home for sale in the area.  I visited over twenty potential places to live.

In the end, I chose the first one that I went to see. A three bedroom apartment in the top half of a house. The house was in a country setting just two doors down from my daycare provider. The landlord himself would be occupying the basement. He promised to look after snow removal and yard work. Both things that were stressing me out. The rent was reasonable, and he would pay the heating costs. Who knew what kind of winter weather we were in for? It was a good deal. On top of that, the house was nice, spacious and open concept with lots of natural light. I could see us happy there. Icing on the cake? He was cute, this new landlord of mine. Cute and young. His flexibility, accommodating attitude and considerate nature told me that he would make a good landlord. Maybe even a friend.

Thirty days after being evicted, I moved to my new home. Sixteen people showed up to help me move. SIXTEEN people. I was overwhelmed with the generosity of my friends. We were packed and moved by noon. I was unpacked and organized by dinner the next day. It was amazing.

Six months later, we are still happily living in that apartment. The equity from the marital home is nowhere in sight, and we could be here for a while. Truthfully, I am no longer in a rush to move. I hope to someday buy or build a house of my very own. But for now, I am happy where I am. And that landlord? Definitely a friend...and more.