“Affording” a home

March 15, 2016

I think it’s time to move.

I have been in my current apartment for 10 years. The longest I ever spent in one place before this was a year and a half. I didn’t mean to stay here so long, but inertia set in, and years passed, and here I am.

Every 2-3 years I look for a new apartment. I get discouraged when I can’t find anything nicer than what I’ve got for the same price, even in a less popular neighborhood. And I like my neighbors. So I stay. And then the next year I consider moving again. It’s a tiresome cycle.

But this year may just be the year. I’m tired of this. I want a change. And my recent dog experience made me realize that if I’m going to move, I should do it now, before I get a dog, because it would just be too hard to move with a new pup in my life.

In the past, I always set my housing budget based on my income and the others things I spent money on. When I moved to my current place, it was more expensive than where I was moving from, but I decided it was worth giving up some of the extras in my budget so I could afford it.

Now it’s different. My social security disability and other benefits cover my non-rent expenses and I have a few hundred dollars left over to put towards rent. But a few hundred won’t do it around here. Until now I’ve been taking the rest of the rent from my savings, but that won’t work forever.

I won’t get a roommate. Not only would I hate having a roommate, but I couldn’t share the kitchen with someone unless they also had Celiac Disease. So let’s assume no roommate. What are my options?

I can stay where I am. My guess is that my rent will be going up when I renew my lease (I’ll find out in a few weeks.) Let’s say staying here would be $1600 per month, including heat but no other utilities.

I could move to a nearby town where I’d like to live, and pay around $1500, including heat.

I could move to a town a bit further out and pay $1400, including heat.

I could move an hour away and pay only $1100, but have no friends or social life nearby.

I could put all my savings into buying a condo, with a mortgage lower than my rent. But then, when I add in condo fees, property taxes, and repairs, I’d be paying about the same as I pay in rent, but, I’d have put my savings into the down payment.

I could buy a single family house with a mortgage about the same as my rent. There’d be no condo fees, but I’d still be pulling money out of savings every month unless I could start earning more…. but there’s be less in savings because I’d have used it for the down payment.

I could move farther out and buy a 3-family house, live on the first floor and rent out the other two floors. My savings would go into the down payment, but the rent from those two apartments would cover my mortgage, property taxes, and house repairs.

Obviously the last option makes the most financial sense, but it has some problems. I’d have to move at least 45 minutes away, maybe more. That means I wouldn’t see my friends as much or socialize as much. I know nothing about owning a house. I’ve always rented. And I can’t fix anything, or event attempt to learn, because of my health problems, so I’d have to hire someone to fix every little problem. I’d have to deal with tenants. But on the bright side, if the rent from the tenants covered my costs, I could basically live there for free. Then my social security would cover the rest of my expenses (medical bills, car, etc.) and I wouldn’t have to worry about doing any other work.

I would probably buy a 3-family house if I could do it near where I am now, but it’s simply not feasible here (it would be at least $600k.)

So that brings me back to renting as the simplest, most straightforward option. But I can’t afford to rent indefinitely unless I start earning a living.

Blech. I keep running around in this circle in my mind. I look at apartments and condos and houses online and I run the numbers over and over again. I’ve done the research on how to calculate for vacancies when renting out. I’m good with numbers. But no matter what I do, the numbers just don’t add up.

The answer is obvious, really: move away. But my life is here. My friends, my social life, my chronic pain support group, my doctors….everyone is here. I can’t imagine starting over.

I’m lucky that I have options. I know that. I am incredibly lucky. I’m thankful that I saved up some money back when I was working. I’m lucky that my family has helped me out from time to time. But that luck isn’t enough to support my current lifestyle. So I’m just not sure what to do.

And in case any of you regular readers are wondering about Section 8, I’ve been keeping an eye out for places that would work with that, too, but I’m not seeing anything. And considering how inept they’ve been about processing my paperwork, I’m not exactly holding my breath that it will come through anyway. So, it’s in the back of my mind as a potential option, but I don’t think it will solve this conundrum for me….


A doggie update

March 8, 2016

Some decisions are easy. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate. Always chocolate. But some are hard. Keep the dog, or give the dog up?

I wrote about this the other day. And in the end, I didn’t keep her.

Several of you wrote in and you helped me to decide – thank you so much for that!!

At first, I was concerned about the physical requirements to care for a dog. But after a week that become easier and I knew it was a stretch, but doable. The problem was, I didn’t want to do it enough. I didn’t want her enough. I realized that if she was the right dog, I’d be happy to do that work. But she wasn’t the right dog.

She’s lovely. But she’s not emotional support dog material. Several of you commented about how great it was to have your dog snuggle with you when you didn’t feel well. She wasn’t going to be that dog. I kept telling myself it would take time, but I finally had to admit that wasn’t it. She loved to be pet, but she would sit 6 inches or more from me and want petting. She would sometimes stand with her front paws on me for petting. She never sat in my lap. She only sat against me a few times. A few times in 10 days. One day I was upset and crying (because of her, ironically) and she didn’t respond. These were full on sobs while I talked to my mom on the phone. She didn’t come over to me. She didn’t shy away. She just sat where she was, not even looking at me. She was indifferent. That’s not what I want from a dog.

I never made a connection with her. I tried but couldn’t. And that’s rare with me. I make a connection with most dogs I meet. So she just wasn’t the dog for me.

I’ll still get a dog. I don’t know when, but I will. Right now I’m going to take some time to grieve this loss and to figure out how I might do things differently the next time around. But one day, I will definitely have a dog.


I got a dog. Maybe.

March 4, 2016

I had expected to write an excited posted filled with happy stories and cute dog photos. Instead, I’m caught in a limbo, unsure what to do.

I’ve wanted a dog for ages. I grew up with a dog and I’ve always loved dogs. In my 20s I 2016-03-01 18.55.33worked and traveled too much for a dog. I wasn’t ready for the responsibility. In my early 30s my health was too bad for a dog. Then last year, I was talking to a friend for the millionth time about how much I wanted a dog, but that I couldn’t manage all of the walks. She pointed out that I could litter train a dog.

Suddenly, getting a dog seemed feasible. I could walk her once a day and play with her indoors for exercise and have her use the litter the rest of the time. This could totally work. I’d have a lovely companion. A furbaby. Someone to love and someone to love me. I could finally get my dog!

After a ridiculous amount of thinking and over analyzing, checking with doctors and working out logistics with my landlord, then recovering from my foot accident, it was finally time. I sent out several applications. And then the call came: my application was being processed for a little cutie named Roxanne!

Roxanne is a darling. She is sweet and beautiful. She’s housebroken, so in some ways she’s a lot less work at this stage than I expected. She’s got big ears and lovely markings and a tail that’s almost always wagging. Right now, she’s sitting in my lap.

And I don’t know if I’m going to keep her.

If the rescue agency had said the adoption was final, maybe I’d have a different mindset. I’ll never know. Instead, they said this was a foster-to-adopt. I had 2 weeks to decide. After two weeks, I could return her to her last foster home and get almost all of my money back. I shrugged it off when they said that; of course this was permanent! But now I’m not so sure….

Even in the first days, I had doubts. I tried to ignore them. I decided to try the fake-it-til-I-make-it approach. I emailed my loved ones about the adoption. I posted on Facebook. It wasn’t quite working. I was overwhelmed and exhausted and not sure if she was really going to be mine. I posted a more hesitant teaser on this blog. My parents visited to see if they could offer some insight. I spoke to friends with dogs. I talked to her new vet.

And I still don’t know what to do.

At first, I felt like she was too hyper. But that was mostly her acting out as she adjusted to a new place, combined with me not handling it in the best way. Really, she’s so great, there’s nothing particularly “wrong” with her. I just wonder if I can really fit Roxanne into my life.

I had a good thing going. But it was tenuous at best. I was starting to do some paid work, but I was having trouble finding time and energy for it. I was hoping to even start dating again soon, but there was no time or energy for that. My health was doing ok, but I wasn’t doing my exercises consistently. Still, it was going pretty well overall.

I want to give Roxanne back, but I’m not entirely sure why.

If I want to give her back because I don’t think I can fit her into my life without giving up something I shouldn’t (like paid work or physical therapy), then I have to give her back. But if I want to give her back because I got used to having no responsibilities, that’s not a good enough reason. If I want to give her back because I’m scared of the unknown, that’s not a good enough reason.

I used to make changes in my life. A lot of them. I changed cities. I changed jobs. I traveled. Now, I haven’t been on an airplane in 5 years. I’ve been in the same apartment for 10 years. I haven’t been working. My life has been fairly stable. I think stability can be good. I need it to a certain extent. But it can make me complacent. Roxanne would definitely change things up, and maybe that’s the part that’s scaring me. In a life where chronic illness takes away my sense of having any control at all over my life, that stability gave me a small measure of control that I could hold on to. Am I ready to rock that boat?

Or maybe I just didn’t fully understand just how much work a dog would be, and it’s too much for me.

I would love any and all thoughts, advice, and tips you can offer! Please comment below. Do you have a dog? How do you balance dog care with chronic illness? Do you feel that you shy away from new things because you’ve become set in your ways? Really, please share anything you think of. Maybe it will help me.

Right now I’m leaning towards giving Roxanne back. I’m not sure if I can manage having her. But this would also mean giving up on my dream of dog ownership, at least for now (maybe down the road I’d feel more ready?) Not to mention, I would miss her and feel terrible about her being abandoned yet again.

Help!


Chronic illnesses: they’re not boring

February 16, 2016

Chronic illnesses are a lot of things. They’re frustrating, irritating, disturbing, enlightening, infuriating, unpredictable. They teach us who our real friends are and they teach us about ourselves. But however you think of them, they’re certainly not boring.

Every now and then I’m not sure what to write about on here. Lately I’ve wondered if I’ve just covered it all. After all, I’ve written 587 posts (not including this one.) Some were personal, like my experiences with sex or social security, and some were general, like a news item. But they were all relatable. And they were all about chronic illness.

And now, 587 posts later, I’m realizing how much more there is to write. There are my own experiences as my journey continues, there’s the changing political landscape, and there’s simply everything I haven’t covered yet.

Chronic illness can lie in the background of your life or it can be front and center, or maybe it moves around. But once it’s prevalent, it’s not boring. It effects so many things, big and small. Doctors, hospitals, medications, insurance issues, stereotypes, jobs, strained relationships…. and that doesn’t even touch upon, you know, the actual effects on our bodies! Many of us deal with symptoms daily. We think about them so much, we forget that some people don’t constantly worry about how to sit to avoid a pain or what to eat to get just the right nutrients to compensate for that disorder or which activities can be combine to conserve energy and stave off fatigue. It’s a never-ending game where there’s no winner, but we try not to be losers.

Ironically, I am writing a post about how much there is to say without saying anything specific. Still, I think it’s important to take a moment and think about this. Some of you are bloggers, and you know what I’m talking about. It’s easy to have a day or a week or longer without inspiration. But that doesn’t mean the well has run dry. And some of you aren’t bloggers, and you know there’s so much to say about your chronic illness but you probably don’t have a way of sharing it. The next time you feel that you could never explain your chronic illness to someone and you can’t understand why, just remember that I found a way to write 587 blog posts (over four and a half years) and I haven’t come close to running out of things to discuss yet. That’s a whole lot of information.

Someone is creating an anthology about chronic illness(es) (this post was written a while ago, but she sent an update recently to say that she’s still collecting stories, so you should consider participating!) and some people might wonder how you could write a whole book about them. But we know better. We know this could easily be a 50-part series. Because whatever else chronic illnesses are, they definitely aren’t boring.