It's been a wild couple of weeks, friends. In early February we had a snowstorm, followed by a quick thaw, and in that process something between our balcony and the ceiling of the unit downstairs turned into a waterfall. The emergency repairs revealed that there's some serious water damage in there that will require essentially rebuilding our balcony to fix. Not wanting to deal with what essentially amounts to a major construction project more or less in our living room, not to mention the loss of our outdoor space, we started looking for a new place to live, found one, and by last Monday we had finalized the paperwork.
So over the course of March, we'll be moving to a much bigger house in the suburbs. I have some complicated feeling about this; I love the city and love living in a place that's so full, but I don't love the housing situation and making it better without leaving the area requires far, far more money than we have. So, to the suburbs we go, at least for now.
Life as a renter is like this sometimes, and it's one of the parts I really struggle with sometimes: when things get weird, instead of being tied to a place and fixing it, it often makes the most sense to leave. People who live in areas where ownership is more attainable don't always get it, but I try to remember that the history of widespread home ownership is remarkably short, given how deeply entrenched it is in our culture. It's tough to keep that in mind sometimes; tough not to feel like we're missing out on something because we don't own our home. But in a world where people move so often and where so little feels permanent, actual outright ownership is really pretty rare, and the freedom to move when we need to is a privilege we don't take for granted.
In any case, things are going to be a little messy for a while, and I make no promises about the frequency of these letters, but I hope you'll still be here when I get back.
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