// goals for 2006.find_a_home

o I’m currently living my boyfriend’s grandma’s townhouse. It’s not a horrible deal, and I’m grateful for the opportunity as it let me get myself on my feet in a job before having to worry about finding my own place and paying outrageous rent before padding my bank account. But now it’s time to leave.

o Most of the time it’s just me and Brian in here, but occasionally we house his speeding-to-loser brother whose parents can’t manage to cut the damn cord. He’s reckless and irresponsible and infuriating and nice as hell to us but always manages to leave the place in a state of disaster after a weekend here. I’ve been unpleasantly surprised by wet spots, crusted dishes, and condoms in various corners of the apartment, left for my discovery a day or two after he leaves. Our garage is still packed with all of the crap he left and didn’t throw away, most of it too big for the garbage service to take for us. Our closet is packed with his and his friends’ computers, stereo equipment and other crap. I want a place where we’re not forced to house him until he’s moved well out of this phase.

o We can’t have pets. I have a turtle and a fish; I’m also taking care of Cory’s two ugly-ass goldfish. But it ends there. We are not able—by his grandma’s decree, which I will not argue at all because it’s her place—to own any pet that isn’t confined to a cage nearly one-hundred percent of the time. So no bunnies, no cats, no dogs, mice, rats, chinchillas, or any other conceivably cool pet. But, since Brian and I fully plan on having an army of pets instead of kids, we need to leave.

o Also, we can’t decorate to any degree. Brian and I are home improvement junkies—we are generally overflowing with ideas to make a place more convenient and the know-how to take to it ourselves. But here we’re barely able to hang a shelf without the shit hitting the fan-—again understandable because it’s not our place. (Although the people that are doing most of the complaining have as much right to as we do... i.e. none) But we can’t paint, and we can’t make any lasting changes to walls, ceilings, light fixtures or anything else. We want a home we can mold into our own. This is a white-walled box.

o So, by December 31, 2006, Brian and I will have moved into our own place we can decorate and improve, where we can keep pets and not keep Cory.

04.24.06
Update: And we're back on!
Brian and I broke up somewhat temporarily--we're on hiatus for a year so I can live alone and he can get some ass--so I'm off to look for a new place. I have a list of probable spots about which I'll be calling for the entirety of this week. Then, this weekend, Brian and I are heading off on foot to tour a couple of them; he's going to take pictures for me so I can report back to my co-decision maker, my mom ^^;
Because we've ended things on such good terms, I'm actually really excited about finally getting to move to the city. Hopefully by next update, I will be there with much to report (though with questionable internet access and possibly no way to report it).
02.20.06
Update: This one's actually looking very unlikely to be accomplished (at least for the reasons stated above). Upon discussion of moving out for these reasons, Brian's mom became scared enough that he was going to go be an independent being that she revealed we were, in fact, allowed to have pets and paint as long as both were cleared with grandma first. Apparently the detail that total prohibition wasn't passed directly from her wasn't important until this point.
And Cory's fucked up royally at this point. Among other things, he's run his parents a hefty spending of what has to be over five thousand dollars at this point with maxed credit cards, car repairs, bills, computers, etc--all because he doesn't take care of his shit. Anyway, end result is that he will be forced to live back with his parents this summer if he doesn't stay at his place at Northern. Either way, we're not housing him. I love the kid, but the part of me that would kill him for the mess is rejoicing.
Anyway, now it seems the only reason to get a new place would be if Brian and I continue in our downward spiral and break up. And we've even tentatively decided that we'd probably continue to live together anyway because, after all, it's a huge place and we're a little too used to each other to go cold turkey on contact.
So I guess that's that for this one.

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	o	I’m currently living my boyfriend’s grandma’s townhouse. It’s not a horrible deal, and I’m grateful for the opportunity as it let me get myself on my feet in a job before having to worry about finding my own place and paying outrageous rent before padding my bank account. But now it’s time to leave.
	o	Most of the time it’s just me and Brian in here, but occasionally we house his speeding-to-loser brother whose parents can’t manage to cut the damn cord. He’s reckless and irresponsible and infuriating and nice as hell to us but always manages to leave the place in a state of disaster after a weekend here. I’ve been unpleasantly surprised by wet spots, crusted dishes, and condoms in various corners of the apartment, left for my discovery a day or two after he leaves. Our garage is still packed with all of the crap he left and didn’t throw away, most of it too big for the garbage service to take for us. Our closet is packed with his and his friends’ computers, stereo equipment and other crap. I want a place where we’re not forced to house him until he’s moved well out of this phase.
	o	We can’t have pets. I have a turtle and a fish; I’m also taking care of Cory’s two ugly-ass goldfish. But it ends there. We are not able—by his grandma’s decree, which I will not argue at all because it’s her place—to own any pet that isn’t confined to a cage nearly one-hundred percent of the time. So no bunnies, no cats, no dogs, mice, rats, chinchillas, or any other conceivably cool pet. But, since Brian and I fully plan on having an army of pets instead of kids, we need to leave.
	o	Also, we can’t decorate to any degree. Brian and I are home improvement junkies—we are generally overflowing with ideas to make a place more convenient and the know-how to take to it ourselves. But here we’re barely able to hang a shelf without the shit hitting the fan-—again understandable because it’s not our place. (Although the people that are doing most of the complaining have as much right to as we do... i.e. none) But we can’t paint, and we can’t make any lasting changes to walls, ceilings, light fixtures or anything else. We want a home we can mold into our own. This is a white-walled box.
	o	So, by December 31, 2006, Brian and I will have moved into our own place we can decorate and improve, where we can keep pets and not keep Cory.