Moving

By Jillian Owens

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“Ugh.  I have to move.  I can’t keep dealing with this commute.  WHY WON’T YOU PEOPLE JUST DRRRRRIVE?!?!” is my daily mantra as I head in to work from my Southeast Columbia abode.

“My neighborhood is so dodgy”

“I just need to live closer to downtown.”

“I feel like I’m living out in Sumter.”

“I should live in a house with more character”

I’ve griped about my rental house for the entire time I’ve lived there…almost three years.  My friends always suggest that I just move if I dislike it that much.  But, it’s comfy enough.  All my stuff is there.  I have everything where I want it.

About a month ago, I got a text from my landlord, “Hey, Just wanted to give you a heads up that I’d like to put the house on the market soon.  Just in a few months or so.  No big rush.”

My heart plummeted.  No.  Just.  No.  He couldn’t sell my house!  I cleaned it!  I painted it!  I did yard work for it!  It’s MINE!  Except it isn’t and it never was.  It turns out that possession is not in fact 9/10^ths of the law.  I have to move.

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Wipe that smile of your face, girly.  You don’t get to stay here.

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I’ve come to realize that I’ve been taking my comfy house completely for granted.  I never liked it…until now.  I suddenly realize how roomy it is, how well it’s served me as a live/work space, and how ideal it’s been for my pup who loves his doggie door/fenced in back yard set up (just as much as I love not having to take him out on a leash to do his business).  I never cared about my place until I found out it was going away, and isn’t that like so many things in life? #METAPHOR

At first I thought this would be no big deal and that I’d easily find something comparable to what I’ve been renting, but probably even better!  Closer to downtown!  With character!  What I failed to realize was just how good a deal my landlord had been giving me over the past few years and how insanely expensive a decent rental is here in Columbia for a spoiled brat like myself.

What began as an optimistic quest for a fun new rental has become an exercise in futility, depression, and germaphobia.  If it were just me looking for a cute place for just myself, I’d be fine.  But nooooo.  I have my little dachshund, Douglas to consider.  And I need a dedicated sewing space in order to maintain that other little blog I write.  It turns out to be incredibly difficult to find a 2-3 bedroom house in a decent neighborhood, with a fenced-in backyard (for Douglas to play freely), good lighting (for the taking of blog photos), a modern kitchen, a space to grow lilies and veggies, and preferably a garage.  Trying to find this on a nonprofit worker’s salary is actually impossible.

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I have to think of the child!

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I am, however, finding a plethora of leaky-ceilinged, teensy-bathroomed, roach-infested, filthy hovels in terrifying locations for anyone who happens to be into that sort of thing.  But they aren’t cheap.

After bemoaning my fate to my dear friend Erin, she presented a fairly obvious solution.  “Why don’t you just buy a house?  Your mortgage for something cute and decent would be less than rent.  You don’t plan on leaving Columbia, so why not just go ahead and buy?”

Whoa.  What?  Homeownership is a terrifying idea for someone like me who isn’t sure she’d actually know how to fix anything that might go wrong in a house if she owned one.  I’m actually quite certain I’d be debased to convulsive sobs if a pipe burst, a tile broke, or the garbage disposal started making weird noises.

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This is the pipe that contains my future tears.

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And then there’s the whole permanency of it all…and the paperwork.  I hate paperwork.

“I really don’t think I’m grownup enough for that,” I responded after a long pause.  “I just don’t know that I’m that competent.”

Erin just looked at me in that way she looks at me when she thinks I’m being an idiot.

“How many stupid people do you know that own houses?  What makes you think they can handle it, and you can’t?”

She had a good point.  I’ve been supporting myself throughout my adult life and have certainly held my own through some weird times.  Suddenly homeownership didn’t seem so daunting.

I can do this.  If stupid people can do this, so can I.

I can buy a house.  I can buy a house and I can maintain it.  I can buy, maintain, and happily exist in a house that will have 2-3 bedrooms, a big enough bathroom, a fenced-in backyard, and enough space to sew and create.  It’ll be in an okay neighborhood.  It’ll be close to downtown.  And I’m going to thrive there.  I hope.

See you in Grownup Land!

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Jillian Owens is a writer, designer, and eco-fashion revolutionary. A Columbia SC transplant, she graduated from the University of South Carolina with a BFA in Theatre and English. When she’s not gallivanting about, she’s busy refashioning ugly thrift store duds into fashionable frocks at ReFashionista.net or helping the underserved through her work in Community Impact at United Way of the Midlands. She also reviews local theater productions for Jasper Magazine and Onstage Columbia, and is an occasional contributor for The Free Times. Any comments, questions, or crude remarks can be directed to [email protected].

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