So long story way short, I'm moving back into my previous house, the one I bought at the HEIGHT of the housing market and rented out when I moved in with Mr. B. It's too bad, really; Mr. B's house is a darling 1930s-era brick house but it's just too damned much work (and money) for me to deal with by myself. So it's back to my mid-90s cookie-cutter place. Where the home owners association cuts the grass. Oh yeah.
It's going to be a bittersweet farewell. Feels like the close of the last chapter in our relationship. I'll be right back where I was when we were just starting out -- we'd only been together about six months when I bought the place.
The tenants will be out in less than two weeks. I'm anxious to get in there, measure, and change things up a bit to mark this as a fresh start. There's really no rush, other than at some point the bank is going to want the keys to Mr. B's house back. I figure I have the summer to paint, move, and get settled.
As I am fond of telling everyone (repeatedly) this will be my fifth move in just under five years. I want my pin, dammit!
