Believe in the Flowers.

Carol of the Zombie Jesus!

Seriously, it is.

In November of 2006, we were living at Jefferson street still in a three-bedroom house with a grand total of three other couples, one of which lived briefly in the living room. Colin worked until 11 PM or midnight, I was job-searching, and we were nervously awaiting the arrival of our first child in April. I was 20, Colin had just turned 23, we were unwed, and we had very little going for us. We knew we needed out of the overcrowded house, mostly because there wasn't even space in our tiny bedroom for a crib, much less space in the house for much-needed baby items.

So we were surprised, to say the least, when while driving down Broadway one day we spotted a red and yellow sign on the lawn of an oversized house that declared there was an apartment for rent. We immediately called the number and found out that while the place was only a one-bedroom, it was big. We got to look at it later that day, and were so desperate that despite the $350 a month we would have to drop, we would sign for the place immediately. Within two days, we were moving out of Jefferson into our own apartment. It was big, for sure, with a combination kitchen/dining room, a large bathroom, one huge closet in the living room, and .. Well, the living room was huge. At the time we managed to overlook the fact that the walls in the house were only about three feet tall before the slant of the roof kicked in, the fact that it was an attic apartment and thus was up two flights of stairs (which was horrible when you're pregnant), that the central air didn't really work as well as it should, and oh yeah, that the living room had no windows. At all. Anywhere. None.

But we overlooked those problems like the desperate parents-to-be that we were. We said goodbye to Jefferson and by the end of the month were residents of the Broadway apartment, despite those problems, and the numerous others that cropped up over time. We dealt because we were happy that we had just managed to find someplace that was ours, and livable. We had privacy again, could walk around in whatever we wanted, could use rooms whenever we pleased. There were no washer and dryer hookups, no basement access (bad in tornado alley), no way to gate off the second flight of stairs that was actually inside of our apartment. Two of the few windows we had leaked like nobody's business and some of them didn't work or couldn't be used for whatever reason. We had no water pressure and little hot water. Our door didn't shut all the way and only barely locked.

About a year later, we knew we needed out. Gabe was crawling and finding it easy to get around our barriers. We had to shut the cats out of the bedroom because the bedroom held more storage of things we hadn't had the space to unpack, and when they weren't trying to pee on things, they were rifling through our belongings at all hours of the night. The single bedroom arrangement would, we knew, eventually become intolerable. Our combination living room, game room, storage room, relaxation room was big, but also stuffy, and it was nigh impossible to light it according to our standards. Without windows there, it made it seem like we were living in a dungeon, and because it had the most space and it was where Gabe's toys were, we spent more time in that windowless room than anywhere else in the house. We did some looking, but when we managed to find something, it would fall through for whatever reason: horrible neighborhood, frightening neighbors, impossible rent, credit checks we couldn't dream of passing. We dreaded going home, and ended up having numerous arguments about how awful it was to have to go back to that place, how neither of us ever wanted to but how we always HAD to. Going back to Broadway at the end of a day spent out was like doing a dreaded chore, and we were always anxious to leave again.

So you can imagine our surprise when last week were driving down 12th street and saw a sign stating that an apartment was for rent right next to Pair-A-Dice Hobbies. It was a two-story building, and while it had no yard, we weren't in any state to be picky. We called.

They were questionable on pets. Turned out the place was owned by the bank right across the street, which meant at the very least they would be reliable when fixing things (more reliable than, say, our current landlord). The rent was the same as what we're paying now and the house was trailer-style, an old converted two-story house made into two separate apartments. There were washer/dryer hookups in the basement, and technically only one small bedroom, although some arranging could mean two. We weren't in any place to argue, so we went to go look.

Six rooms total, including a much smaller bathroom and a relatively smaller kitchen, but with separate dining room. A baby-sized room, a living room, and a front room that, despite the door to the porch, would make a good bedroom. There were two fireplace mantles in two of the rooms, even though the fireplaces had long since been blocked off. It was the only one with basement access, and there was a door down to it from the kitchen. A gas stove, which was Colin's big "want", and not much counter space though that could be worked with. A single-side sink, which was disappointing, but workable too. The water pressure in the shower and from all the taps was good, the bathroom had a medicine cabinet, and we were told we'd be allowed to store things down in the basement. There were no stairs that weren't already blocked off, and a small back porch onto which we could put chairs or even a grill. It needed work - painting, cleaning, retouching - but we were told that we were welcome to do the small stuff, as long as we okayed it all with the bank first. The apartment was baby safe, homey, and had windows in every damn room.

Today, we signed the papers and put money down on that apartment, and were in exchange given two keys.

We are moving.


that is AWESOME! I'm soo happy for you guys, if you need help with moving/ touch-up work, let me know! love you!