Wednesday, April 30, 2014
The Day We Knew Would Come
Dave and I heard from our landlords yesterday that we will, indeed, have to move this summer. They're going to sell our flat.
As you know, I've been dreading this news for a while. We like our apartment and our neighborhood, and if it were entirely our decision we'd stay put. In fact, we thought we were safe because the apartment owners seem quite permanently ensconced in the United States. I'd been afraid they'd move back to London. I didn't count on them being so permanently ensconced that they wouldn't want to keep this place anymore.
Anyway, it's not a tragedy. In some ways it will be good. Dave and I have both chafed against living with an apartment full of other people's furniture -- it's not our style, you know? I have their pictures in the closets and their rug rolled up behind the wardrobe. The kitchen cabinets have their dishes pushed to the back. It will be nice to not have all their stuff around.
We could also find a place more suited to what we really need. Maybe a place with an outdoor garden for Olga! A place to plant the avocado tree and the horseradish!
We need to decide what we want to do next. I'm not sure we have time to buy -- we need preapproval for a mortgage, time to search and negotiate, and god forbid any deal we strike should fall through and leave us homeless. I'm inclined to move to another rental, and then look for a place to purchase at our leisure. (I'm also told buying is easier after we've been here a few more years, for bureaucratic immigration reasons.)
It's a good thing we'd planned not to travel much this summer!
(Photo: Shoreditch, London.)