Relating my home buying story got me thinking about another decision to move.
When I first moved back to the States, I lived at Hillary‘s house until I could get my feet solidly on the ground. I then found a cute 1970’s-era apartment to rent that accepted cats (not Carmen, but my previous feline companion, Kiki). It was in a central location, and I loved it.
About a year after I moved in, the neighborhood started to change, and it went downhill quick. Three of the four surrounding complexes went Section 8, as did many others on the block. It became a rare occurrence when I wasn’t woken up in the middle of the night either to a fight in the street or helicopters flying overhead with spotlights and garbled warning messages.
[They seem much less scary in the daytime!]
I was fortunate that neither my place nor my car was ever broken into, but I didn’t want to tempt fate. The increasing danger level became too much for me, and I started looking for a new place to live. I found one in a much nicer area (with a much higher price tag), that had an ocean view from the living room window. I wanted it, so I put down my deposit. Of course the frugal side of me was screaming out about the added monthly expense.
I was still questioning my decision when that night I woke to the sound of two women having words (rather loud words) in the middle of the street. When I was finally awake enough for my brain to turn the screaming sounds into English, I heard one of my favorite quotes of all time: He don’t love me just for my food stamps!
My decision instantly was settled in my mind, and I never questioned it again. Yet another example of serendipity to the rescue.
Have you ever had a neighborhood turn on you? or What is your favorite overheard line?