To be honest, my move isn’t the best choice on a lot of levels. I’m not saving any money the first year since I have to pay for movers, and for a few new things to help shoehorn all my stuff into this smaller space. I’ll also be paying a cable bill. And the complex also doesn’t feel as safe as my current apartment.

But moving is, like a new hairstyle, a battle between aspirations and practicality. By moving to a new place I get to dream new things will happen, that my life will be fun and more interesting. There will be space for all the plans I have, and I’ll get the joy of designing that space to support the life I wish I had. It’s a chance to right all the mistakes I made setting up this apartment, this life.

Practically speaking, however, I’ll be downsizing from a one bedroom to a two bedroom, which involves decisions and tradeoffs. Some of the decisions are a little unusual. They won’t work for everyone, but hopefully they will work for me.

My current apartment contains three very large pieces of furniture.  A sofa, a bed, and . . . (wait for it) . . . a hammock stand. The hammock stand is a new purchase, the end result of a rush of aspirational joy.  And it’s VERY large, about ten feet long, and almost four feet wide at its widest point.

I bought the hammock stand to help me get a decent night’s sleep. A few years ago I injured my shoulder, and during the recovery process couldn’t sleep lying down in a bed without pain. This has forced me to sleep in a recliner for about two years now, and while it isn’t as bad as you would think, it isn’t all that comfortable either. Some days my back hurts, other days my hips hurt, or my legs. Most days I’m fine, but I do miss stretching out.

Since I weigh so much, sleeping in a bed pinches my body in all kinds of uncomfortable ways. If I lay on my side, for example, the hip resting on my hard-as-a-rock mattress is squashed down by all the weight I carry around my hips on a daily basis. I’m my own panini press, with my own body as the sandwich.

I knew from previous experience that sleeping in a hammock would be a game changer.  I slept in a Mayan hammock briefly after graduating from college and loved it. My experiment ended only because my father’s idea of safely hanging a hammock involved him twisting some bolts into the drywall with his bare hands (no anchors, no studs) then grinning at my then-160-pound self and saying “OK, you’re good to go!” A few months after his wise assistance, the bolts shot out of the wall while I was getting into the hammock. I’m glad I crashed to the floor so quickly because otherwise the bolts would have brained me.

This time around I did some research. I wanted an apartment-friendly solution that wouldn’t turn into an engineering disaster. Eagle’s Nest Outfitter’s SoloPod quickly became the leader in a sea of almost identical hammock stands. The REI in Austin had them in stock, so I drove to Austin to avoid shipping costs. It took ten minutes to assemble. The SoloPod is very sturdy, and I’ve been napping in in for two weeks now. I’m slowly working up to sleeping in it all night, but first I want to be sure I can get in and out of the thing when I’m half asleep with a full bladder.

Admittedly I’m not crazy about the way it looks. What’s with that lame curl at the ends? Do the Vikings know ENO has their ship? I’m also not crazy about ENO’s hammock colors. All of their hammocks scream I AM ATHLETIC AND EAT SPROUTS FOR BREAKFAST, or DUDE I KILLED BAMBI WHILE DRINKING A BEER. The ones that scream POINTLESS DESIGN-OBSESSED FINANCIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE PROTO HIPSTER seem to be out of stock.

So I settled for ENO’s orange and gray DoubleNest, because nylon lets me avoid waking with string patterns all over my body, something that happens after sleeping all night in a Mayan hammock.

I thought the design flu was over, but this week Target is whispering in my ear, tempting me with this Marimekko hammock.

I’m trying very hard not to listen.

ANYWAY — back to the apartment stuff.  Now that I’m seriously invested in hammock, the 10-foot hammock stand will obviously occupy a large bit of floor space in the new place. This means something else has to go.  Something large. Like the bed I never use, or the sofa I also never use.

After listening to me debate the decision for twenty minutes, my sister C made the decision for me. The sofa is going, and the bed is staying. This means guests can still stay overnight in the apartment. It will also lend a semblance of normality to the place, which it desperately needs since it lacks a sofa and a television.

I almost didn’t sign the lease. After writing my last post I realized I hadn’t checked for registered sex offenders in the area, so I took a quick look online and found one of the complex’s residents had a record.

While this individual was listed as ‘low risk,’ I wanted to know more about the situation so I paid for a quick public domains record search, and found some additional not-so-attractive details. The next morning I called the property manager’s office and asked if this person still resided on the premises, and explained my concerns. The management said they would look into the issue, and called me back later to let me know the tenant’s lease ends a few weeks after I move in, and that the lease would not be renewed. With that reassurance I signed the lease and paid the security deposit.

The whole thing bothers my liberal soul. The sex offenders program exists for very good reasons, but it’s also a flawed system. After all, two teenagers engaging in consensual sex could end up on the list since they’re both minors. How great a system is that? Additionally, only a small percentage of sex crimes are reported, so I’m probably living near an unknown sex offender at this moment.

And what does it say about me as a person, that I’m afraid of low risk odds? That I’m afraid of someone I’ve never met? That my phone call may have cost someone their lease renewal, and forced someone into a financially difficult move?

My (flimsy) justification is two-fold. The felon was 30 when the incident happened, so childish ignorance isn’t a factor, especially when combined with the other activity I found. I also feel that if a low-risk felon moved into a community where I already had a lease I’d probably live with it, hope to be left in peace, and reassess when my lease expires. And maybe buy a better alarm system. But in this case I would be deliberately placing myself in (potential) harm’s way. The healthiest choice would be to avoid the solution if possible.

This issue has left a sour taste in my mouth. At least I have packing to distract me.

After spending over a month apartment shopping I’ve finally found a new home. I can’t decide if I’ve made a good choice or not. When my manager told me my rent was going up to $825 a month I hesitated, and decided to leave even though I love this apartment.

The apartment is a two bed/two bath, with two large living-room-size spaces, large kitchen, central air, and washer/dryer connections. It was remodeled about two years before I moved in with new appliances and wood laminate flooring. I park in front of my unit every day, and the trash and mail are a few steps away. I have windows and plenty of natural light. Water and cable are included. There isn’t a noise problem, except for the nightclub a block over and sometimes from the college kids in the unit behind mine. It’s really a dream as far as apartments go.

But I’m paying for a guest bedroom that sees guests maybe four times a year, and for a bathroom that hardly ever gets used. Assuming that’s about 30% of the apartment space, I’d be paying about $250 a month for unused space. That’s $3000. I can put my occasional guests up in a good hotel for that, and still save money.

My target rent was $628/month. At that price, the total annual rent + movers would be equal to what I’m paying now. $628 seemed low, however, so I was prepared to go up to $650. I didn’t think it would be difficult, in this college town, to find a one bedroom that met my short list of requirements — cute, decent neighborhood, ground floor, and washer/dryer connections.

I thought, with a late May move-out date, that there would be a ton of properties up for lease. Students would be graduating or moving home for the summer, right? Not so much, I discovered, unless I wanted to deal with a student-focused apartment complex. It seems the big rush in this town is in August. There are some apartments available in May, but not nearly as many as I expected. I also discovered, to my dismay, that one bedroom apartments are rare. I found a few in nice complexes, but they cost more than the $825 I was balking at paying!

All I could find were nice two bedrooms with high rent, or crappy two bedroom duplexes with low rent. Nothing in my sweet spot. After a month of looking I thought maybe I would just stay where I am, but of course the property management company managed to rent the space out while I was dithering.

I didn’t deal well with this uncertainty. For some people a bad apartment is a minor inconvenience, but for me would be highly stressful. Since my social life is nonexistent, It isn’t uncommon for me to come home Friday evening and not leave the apartment until Monday morning.  All that time in one place can be difficult, so having a nice space is important.

The stress made me pessimistic and bitchy. It reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. I couldn’t decide what to pack, or what furniture to keep. I spent my evenings obsessively looking at leasings and fretting, imagining myself in a place I hated.

Slowly my list of requirements dwindled and my budget increased. I looked at ten properties, including a $500-a-month 368-square-foot stand-alone efficiency, on a residential lot with two other tiny homes. I could do a tiny home, right? After all I’m all about the latest trend.  Thank gods the college kid who had been renting the place allowed it to get so filthy that it scared me off. (Honestly, who moves out, cuts the electric, and leaves food in the fridge?)

That tiny home, while not for me, was a tipping point. Considering that space forced me to re-imagine my life in a smaller apartment, without a washer/dryer or a proper kitchen. It helped me realize I could live without some of the things I thought I needed, which let me broaden my search.

I reexamined units I had rejected early in the search process, including an apartment complex down the street from me that I’ve admired from the outside for years. It’s 1940s or maybe early 50s, has great windows, beautiful brickwork . . . but it never had any vacancy signs outside, so I didn’t know anything about the interior.  It also looked pretty run down, but recently I’ve seen signs of revival. Someone stated caring about the landscaping, and power washed the brick.  A remodeled unit in the complex came up early in my search for $700/month, and while it was really cute I didn’t call to see the place because it was out of the price range I had at the time, looked like an efficiency, didn’t appear to have washer/dryer connections.

But with my choices dwindling and my move-out day approaching, I hunted down the management company and gave them a call.  It turns out they’re remodeling the place, one apartment at a time. They had two units I could see, but they were not remodeled.

I went ahead and looked, mainly out of curiosity. What I found was a run-down space with a charming floor plan, original hardwood floors and light fixtures, and period built-ins. It was larger than I had anticipated, too, with an actual bedroom that didn’t make it into the photos. I liked the vibe of the apartments.  The other residents in the complex had personalized the spaces, really making these run-down units into a home. In my unit, for example, a previous tenant had hand drawn a wood pattern on the kitchen cabinets, and affixed bright metal garden ornaments like sunflowers and butterflies to the cabinet doors. I also liked that the management isn’t forcing out the existing residents. They’re slowly remodeling as units become vacant.

The space had a few drawbacks, however, including window air conditioners and no washer/dryer connections. But I’m tired of looking and I like the space, so I’m taking the risky step of signing the lease on Monday, with the understanding that the place will be ready by my move-out date.  I’m looking forward to this change!