If all goes well, within the next few months I'll be out of this apartment and renting a room in a house somewhere else in Portland.
I moved into this place -- getting out of a drama situation in a previous Portland house -- in August 2002. Eleven years. I have never lived any other place as long as that. Life of a Navy brat, y'all. (My previous record: five years in both Rancho Bernardo, CA as a kid and Oakton, VA as a junior high/high school student.) Studio apartment in a converted church school/convent (really; but no, not at the same time). Neat space in a neat building. But an old one that's been through a lot of remodeling.
My apartment is the only one that's stayed occupied since the new owners bought it several years ago; there's been turnover in every other space. This space is not in as good shape as the rest of the apartments. Recently my landlord asked if I'd be willing to move into a momentarily empty other apartment so he could finally redo this one.
I found myself waffling about that. And getting worried about it (and annoyed by the rent hike I'd have if I moved into one of the remodeled apartments). And I decided something based on having moved many times: I'd like to minimize the moves.
Where I'd really like to be is in a house. Renting a room in one again. Moving one apartment over would delay that. Two moves for the price of two. Why not one move (ideally) for the price of one?
As I unpacked my reaction to my landlord's question, I finally accepted that I've gotten too cocooned in this place. I'm not around people enough. So: get used to being around people in a house again.
I've actually thought for a while about getting back into a house, but staying here was easy. Maybe too easy. Add to that my current job, literally a 15-minute walk from here, and staying here seemed more attractive (never mind work's easy to get to by bus). Result: more waffling. But situations converged, and Saturday -- before heading to an overtime shift at work -- I finally told my landlord my decision.
Now comes the searching, the organizing (and weeding-out) of my stuff, and the hoping that I see and avoid the signs of a house with Drama in it, like the last house. But making the decision has helped; last week I did the worst of my waffling, and it contributed to what was kind of a crap week. Post-decision, I felt better. My walk Sunday probably helped, too; walking often does.