A couple of weeks ago, I pulled up stakes and moved to a ground floor unit in my building. In my mind.
After 24 hours of daydreaming, I came to my senses.
I went to the open house for the unit only because it was concurrent with a showing of the condo immediately above me. I looked forward to hearing what they would bring in the current market. They were similar in size and identical in asking price.
Our May was warm. My apartment faces south and west and gets quite hot by late afternoon on sunny summer days. The one upstairs was a few degrees warmer. It is a top floor unit in a flat-roofed building.
The unit on the ground floor faces north and east and was cool. Its best feature was a private patio and patch of lawn. I closed my eyes, hands already in the earth, establishing an herb bed along the base of the hedge.
Both of the places were vacant and staged with minimal furnishings to maximize the feeling of spaciousness. Discontent with my place started to take root.
As I mulled, I realized that the ground floor suite would feel like a cave in our darker winter months. And if a condo building went up in the adjacent parking lot – a likely probability in my lifetime – the unit would have no protection from construction noise for a couple of years. The privacy in the yard would evaporate. The unit would receive even less light.
Also, it had few closets and no associated storage locker. What would I do with my luggage, financial files, and memorabilia? I haven’t gone through the boxes I swore I would not move again without sorting. My stuff was holding me hostage.
So the fantasy move evaporated.
To feed my gardening habit, I am looking into volunteering to maintain a traffic circle near where I live. Its sunny location would allow me to grow herbs among the ornamental plants.
I’ve started to curate my belongings so that the thought of moving doesn’t panic me. My place feels bigger already.
Thank goodness I didn’t throw myself into a bidding war that sent the garden suite $25,000 over the amount the unit above me brought.
The fantasy was a blessing. It got me moving in healthy directions and at a pace that saves my sanity.