Diminutive Roommate has been looking for a house for the past year and a half or so. She made an offer on a house Wednesday, and heard back Thursday that her offer had been accepted. I felt a stab of panic on Thursday. Today is Friday. I”m waiting for the stab of panic to fade anytime now.
In all seriousness, I’m pretty excited for Diminutive Roommate. We got to chat about the house for the first time tonight, and she’s (obviously) feeling overwhelmed, and worried that we’ll stop hanging out (note to self: harass Diminutive Roommate endlessly for the next three months, or until she gets sick of me). I let her know that she would have my weekends for a while to help her get situated, and at the very least get the place in order so it can feel like a home and not just a new space to store herself.
Meanwhile, this is the perfect time to move out of our apartment for me. I have good credit, but apparently it wasn’t good enough for me to not need a guarantor when we moved in here. I was furious and embarrassed. My dad signed on with much grumbling. He and Mom didn’t seem to understand how angry and ashamed I was to have to ask for that kind of help at age 27 until they were delivering yet another lecture about how they didn’t like having to do this kind of thing at my age, and they hoped I understood the implications of blahblahblah, and I burst into tears and went on a tirade about how much effort I had put into being fiscally responsible and how mortified I was to have to do this in front of my friends, in front of my family.
Fast-forward ten months later, and Diminutive Roommate’s sudden escrow looks like an escape route for my parents who are financially on the hook until this lease ends with finality. Plus, boyfriend and I have been talking about moving in together, but that’s all contingent on the approval of his family, who owns the house he’s been staying in rent-free for almost two years. Plus the logistics of where my stuff would go in a house where they have expressly forbidden Boyfriend from doing anything as extreme as moving the furniture around (how would they ever fix such a permanent change?!). So where would my stuff go? How much rent would I be expected to pay? How long would I be safely housed there until we got booted out because they suddenly decided to sell the place?
Then there’s the possibility that they’ll just say no outright. Where would I go? Would I stay here? Would my parents take me in? They let Sister live there for a while before she couldn’t stand it for another second (that was explosive exit).
I’m expecting the panic to subside anytime now. Yep, aaaaaanytime.
Side note: It’s Saturday now, and I’ll be going to see Diminutive Roommate’s house this afternoon. I’m pretty excited. She said there are two cats that come with the place, lol. I wonder what she’ll do with them (adopt, obviously). More as this story unfolds. Back to you in the studio.