The One-Bedroom in The Scary Blue Building

Well, I'm sitting on my bed on a Sunday morning. Pandora is playing. My checkbook is open, laughing at me. And Cleo snores, her paws curled up under chin and her back resting against my knee. 

I sent an email to a person from Craigslist and told them that I would not be purchasing the couch and chair that we had been discussing. I committed to buying it and had a time and place all planned out, but this morning I woke up worrying over it. Is this a smart thing to do with my money? Do I really need a couch and chair? Will this even fit in my apartment? 

So, I sent the email and then my mom and I went to check out the apartment once more. The owner said that I could go check it out anytime I needed, that the front door of the building was always unlocked and he'd leave the vacant rooms unlocked for me. Mom and I went on in and broke out the measuring tape. 

Turns out we had romanticized the size of the apartment a bit. 

Buyers remorse set in almost immediately. Is this the right choice? Should I have been more picky with my apartment hunting? Before everything seemed to make sense. I liked the owner. He is a nice guy and has a good reputation in the community. The location is less than a mile away from where I work. The other tenants in the building seem nice and I would feel safe. But as I walked around the apartment, I started to worry if I was making the wrong decision. As I took in the cracked walls, the moldy closet, and the dripping faucet, I asked myself: Am I just going to high-tale it back to my parents house? 

I mean, maybe I'm just destined to be one of those girls who lives with with her parents and then when they die, become a recluse who gets her meals delivered.

Mom decided to go measure the cabinets and living room area while I sat in the middle of the bedroom and pondered all of this. I'm not destined to be a recluse. This place has a lot of potential and I could make it into a home. The owner has allowed to bring Cleo with me, and she'll make it less scary for me to be on my own. Every inch in this whole apartment will be mine and I can have it set up in anyway that I choose (within the confines of the renter-owner agreement, of course). 

I think that this is a common problem that young adults face; making this life theirs. We've always been told what to do. Encouraged to go a certain way. But even if the advice that we are given is good and sound, we don't always need to follow it.

So I've decided to start asking myself these questions:

How do I REALLY feel about this?

Would I rather do something else in this life or am I happy with what I'm doing now?

Do I want a dresser in that corner?

Answers:

I'm excited to move into my own place.

I'm happy with what I'm doing now.

No. I hate dressers and I do not want one in my apartment.

See? Wasn't that easy?