I just moved into a new apartment, actually, I bought it. I bought it even though I vowed, when I sold my condo two years ago, that I was through with owning, that renting was the way I would go for the rest of my life.  No more assessments, association meeting, home owners insurance, no more buying appliances or fixing broken doors or air conditioners.  I would pay my rent every month and let the landlord worry about those things while I kicked back and enjoyed getting dividends from all the money I got from the sale of the condo.

It was great; for two years it was great.  I signed a lease for one year and then for the second year. Time flew by and before I knew it, the time had come for the third year lease to arrive.  It didn’t.  I called my landlord.

“Carlos, did you forget to send me a lease?” and this man, who lives in North Carolina, who swore, when I rented the apartment, that he would never sell it, sort of cleared his throat and said “Oh, I was going to tell you, I’ve decided to sell the apartment so you’ll have to leave. You’ll have to move out next month, unless…maybe you’d like to buy it?”

“How much?”  I asked him knowing that the answer would be more than I could possibly afford.  It was. I checked with a few real estate agents  and found, to my shock, that prices had been going up and up in the two years I had been renting.

“You better buy something.” they told me “because prices are only going to keep going up and you’re going to be priced right out of the market to even rent.”

I began the process of looking for another apartment. I knew what I wanted, a building with a swimming pool that was on the beach and within walking distance of some stores and/or restaurants.  Realtors shook their heads when I told them my price range  (it was low) but I was convinced that I would find something.

I’m really not  a picky person and I looked with an open mind but…come on!   I saw tiny studio apartments (you could get a sleep sofa or a murphy bed), a building with no parking, (you can probably find a place on the street,) a building with a balcony and windows facing the garage next door (you can buy heavy curtains), a building under massive renovation (the workmen are very friendly), one possible apartment that  didn’t have a balcony (you don’t need one”) and another that didn’t have guest parking. (so you won’t have company)  Time was running out; what was I going to do?

One morning a realtor I had been working with called. “Listen” he said. “You found out  what’s available in your price range and I know you’re getting discouraged but don’t worry.  I’ve got a great place for you. Now it’s not on the beach and you can’t walk to anything but there are two great swimming pools and the building has enough reserves so there won’t be any assessments and, best thing, you won’t be at the mercy of a landlord.”

It actually was (is)  a really nice apartment in a luxury high rise. It was absolutely affordable and I was feeling pressured and a little guilty about taking up so much of this particular realtors  time and what he was saying made perfect sense so…I made an offer.  It was accepted, two weeks later the moving truck came and here I am.

I actually don‘t mind moving; I kind of like it. I like throwing things away and organizing closets and trying different colors and furniture arrangement.  I don’t mind packing and unpacking (with a little help) and I really loved being able to paint the walls in the different rooms bright colors (gold and purple and turquoise) Renters can’t do that; the apartment I had been renting was all beige.

So I bought the condo, moved in and now, after so many moves, I’ve finally figured out what I absolutely have to do, should positively, definitely do when (not if but when) I move again.

1—Listen to my heart.   I really wanted to move to Miami Beach but got talked out of it because the prices are lower and apartments are bigger in Hallandale/Hollywood but my heart kept saying “Miami Beach.”  Next time I’ll listen.

2—If I can’t find what I want I’ll put the furniture in storage, rent a furnished apartment for a week or a month or travel and keep looking.

3 When I do find a possible place to rent or buy, I’ll spend a lot of time checking it out.  I’ll go to the pool, sit in the lobby, and try to meet a few of the neighbors on the floor of the possible apartment.  I’ll ask myself questions.  Are there people chatting in the lobby, swimming, working out in the gym?  Are there people, period?  I moved into the condo in August (okay, that’s not the best time) and I literally didn’t see another soul, except the security personal and the guy who cleans the pool) for three days.  No neighborsk (I knocked on every door several times), no swimmers in the pool, no one playing billiards or walking on the beautiful grounds or checking out the library. I felt (and still feel) like the heroine in a movie where everyone has disappeared.  Lonely doesn’t begin to describe the feeling. It’s creepy, it’s weird—where is everyone?   The doorman told me that most of the people in the building are snowbirds. “Just wait till November” he said.  “The place will be bursting with activity.”  Should I believe him?

4—I’ll project ahead.   I’ll think about how I’ll feel on moving day. Excited?  Happy?  Sad?  Regretful?  My most prevalent feeling  was that I’ll sell and move again in six months to a year, not an auspicious beginning.

5 I’ll do the math and then I’ll do it again and then I’ll have someone else do it.  I got seduced by the low maintenance fee but, after adding in taxes and insurance and laundry and losing dividends from the money I used to buy the condo, I wasn’t saving that much by owning as opposed to paying rent.

6   Finally, and I’m putting this one in caps because it’s important!  THE REALTOR IS NOT MY FRIEND—I DON’T OWE HIM ANYTHING. I shouldn’t buy something just because I feel guilty.  The realtor I used did, admittedly, spend several days driving me to different buildings and I did change my mind a few times but….he kept calling me!  He kept calling me and saying that he didn’t mind spending the time and that it was his job and he wanted me to be happy.  I tried to be accommodating, I met him at some buildings so he wouldn’t have to drive and I made very quick decisions about the different places and I always thanked him; I even sent him a give certificate to a local restaurant.  The bottom line is, and again, I’m putting it in caps.  HIS JOB IS TO SELL!  MY JOB IS TO NOT FEEL GUILTY ABOUT NOT BUYING.

I was unpacked and settled the day after the movers came.  I bought a desk, a new computer and bookcases and I warned my kids that, the next time I move, the record collection and photograph albums and paintings are not coming with me.

“So” I told them, “if you want these things, figure out how to get them.”

The condo is really very livable, the two swimming pools are heated  and one of them is bigger than a small lake. The view of the intercoastal and skyline and pool is to-die-for and I actually met a neighbor, a real, live person, yesterday. Maybe I just have to give the building some time.

I collect (mentally) short sayings and what I call “fortune cookie wisdom.  I especially like one from the movie about the Hotel Marigold  I don’t know the exact name but the young proprietor says… “Things turn out for the best in the end so, if it’s not the best, it’s not the end.”  We’ll see.  Meanwhile, I’m keeping the number of the moving company handy.