Last week Jordan and I were this. close. to renting an apartment that would have saved us $1100/month in rent. (Meanwhile, my friend in St. Louis points out that her entire mortgage is $1000/month… and here I am trying to reduce my rent by that amount.)
Anyway, we didn’t get it, because the landlord decided Clover was too big for his tastes (she’s 60 pounds, and he wanted 40 pounds of pet or less, because clearly it’s those last 20 pounds that really do the most damage). So he passed, despite our strong credit, ability to pay more than 40x the rent annually (the benchmark here in NYC), and overall adorability.
Jordan was devastated. To him, the apartment represented the chance to relieve significant financial stress (as a reminder, I’m currently unemployed), and the kicker? It was next door, so we wouldn’t even have to disrupt our lives. No new routes or routines to establish. The library would still be down the block. The grocery store we like would still be around the corner. And so on.
Plus, there was a yard. A yard, people.
So, yeah — he was devastated. And I don’t know if it’s just because I’ve been shit-kicked in the teeth enough this year, or I’m reaching some state of enlightenment, but my reaction was, simply: “Huh. I guess that wasn’t our apartment.”
Don’t get me wrong, I would love to save that money. But I realize, it’s not up to me. I don’t get to engineer the solutions to things. I just throw my hat in the ring and hope for the best. If it’s meant to happen, it will; if it’s not, it won’t.
Moving right along.
I threw my hat in the ring for something else big last week, which I don’t want to talk about in detail unless it happens, but I did it. I also threw our family’s hat in the ring at a private school for Ali that I have no idea how we’d pay for, but it speaks to me, and they offer sliding scale tuition, and nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I’m telling the universe what I want, and I’m taking steps in pursuit of those things.
I’m doing all I can.