Moving

This move has been an interesting one. A lot of firsts. First time with professional movers, a kick-ass concept where you pay people and they come and haul your boxes up to your new apartment for you, saving you gallons of gas (at $3/per that’s not to be scoffed at) and massive amounts of pain in suffering (specifically in the regions of Lumbars 3 through 5). This is also the first time i’ve owned a couch (on which my ass is currently firmly planted), a gaming console (oh great and powerful xbox, we do worship you), and a TV that’s almost as pretty as SOME of the art on my walls.

All that was pretty cool and the new apartment is pretty awesome as well. Living in Clarkesville is kind of like living in Italy (steep hills included) except with Texans and Mexican food (I would argue that most Austinites and most Italians are probably cut from the same cloth, but that’s for another posting).

No, the most shocking ‘first’ of this move was the storage unit. I’ve never actually rented one of these before, so it was little stunning to actually sit down and crunch the numbers (hang in here, We’re doing math). My 5′ x 5′ storage unit runs me approximately $2.72/per square foot, per month – more than twice what my apartment costs me. Put another way, if I paid the same in rent for what I pay for a cinder block locker on the outskirts of town, I’d be writing a $2000+ check each month.

Although. One most also consider the amenities. Oversized elevators, access codes, security camera’s massive gates, stark minimalist decorating, energy-efficient (green) lighting, interior exposed brick ? Not to mention free auto-billing for your rent ? Come-on people, you can’t find this kind of thing in a condo, for the price.

Sadly, as part of your renter’s contract (I signed less paper to get my car by the way) with Public Storage, I had to agree not to raise small animals or children (no kidding) in my 5′ x 5′ slice of cinderblock heaven. One would assume that one or both of of those labels also applies to me in some manner. So, it looks like we’ll be sticking in my 1940’s era apartment, with cool bistro, coffee shop and local grocery store in walking distance.

A better deal in the long run. This is a good place. Quiet streets, with vibrant life to them. Pedestrian life (I can go entire twenty-four hour periods without using my car). Two-prong (no ground) electrical outlets, scarce parking, pink-tiled bathrooms and interesting plumbing noises. That old building smell – a weird cross between a laundry mat and a wood shop, the detritus of decades of life, captured within four walls, suspended in the air. Old trees, views of downtown, and 5 minutes from whole foods by bike. Hell, I even saw a rat the other day (how’s that for character). This is a good place.

As old Bob said, everything is going to be alright.