There's a First Time for Everything

I’ve experienced a lot of firsts in the past couple years: first time to go a full year without seeing my family, first time I’ve made a relationship actually last past the six-month mark, first time I’ve gotten anything waxed. In a few months, I’ll have another first to add to the list: first time to live in a house in which my parents’ name is nowhere on the lease.

OK, maybe that makes me sound a little more juvenile and dependent than I actually am. But it’s sort of true still. In college, the folks paid the rent, in Europe it was the same way, and when I moved into my Hell’s Kitchen pad, I had to have a guarantor that made a certain amount of money, a salary I was most definitely not making at the time. So again, I was indebted to Dear Old Dad who signed as guarantor for me, Laura and Sarah-Eva. But no more. On Feb. 1, I’ll be leaving behind the glitz and glamour of New York City livin’ for a more chill pace of life on the West Coast (at least that’s the aim). And I’ll be moving in to a cute little two-bedroom house in South San Francisco with my California surfer beau Scott. To say I’m excited is an understatement. Elated, fervent, earnest, vehement are more accurate. Sure I’m nervous at the thought of leaving everyone I know and love (besides Scott, of course, I’m kind of fond of him in case you haven’t noticed!) on the East Coast. Not to mention, I’m going to finally give full-time writing a go, which is terrifying enough just thinking about not having a constant stream of income. But after 14 months (by then, 20!) of us on opposite coasts, I am ready to live in the same zip code, ready for another new beginning (hopefully my last for a very long time).

So where better to get a fresh start than in sunny, albeit windy, South San Francisco? When Scott’s lease came up at the end of last month, he left the foggy Sunset and found this adorable place to make into our own little home for the time being. Even though we aren’t anywhere near to buying a place of our own (yet), it still feels so grown-up to me, after living in a shoebox in Manhattan, sharing a double bed with Megan in Holland, and occupying a nine-square-meter space with Scott in Denmark. But now we have a house – a whole house! Complete with a garage, back yard and citrus trees (there are citrus trees, right Scott? If not, deal’s off!)!

Scott’s sister Lisa, whom I adore (seriously, how did I get so lucky? Not only do I have a great boyfriend, but his family is equally as wonderful! OK, cheesefest over.), will be commuting between Sacramento and San Francisco and occupying the other bedroom two or three nights a week. Not only will it be nice to have some female companionship (and team up on Scott when needed, *insert evil laugh here*), but this means our rent is even cheaper. My aunt and uncle who have lived most of their lives in the Bay Area told me I’d be paying a lot more to live in SF than NYC, but as it turns out, I’ll be forking over about $350 less a month than I am now for an actual house. With a garage! And citrus trees! So yeah, I’m pretty stoked about that.

I’ve attached some pictures here (obvi), but bear in mind, we haven’t decorated yet and will be collecting furniture over the next few months (donations gladly accepted!). But you get the picture. And when I get out there for good, I expect a steady stream of happy, shiny visitors!

Oh yeah, and ignore the green shag Boogie Nights-like carpet. Scott’s tearing it up as we speak. More pictures to come as the house gets cuter, erm more manly.