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I stood in my bedroom and stared at the piles of clothes on the floor. I sighed in frustration and defeat as I moved them around, searching for anything suitable to wear. I settled on a black sweater and matching pants and tried to ignore the mess. “Ugh, I am sick of living in clutter,” I thought, but our 100-year-old home had very little closet space.
When I went downstairs, I noticed the house was freezing. I angrily yelled to no one, “The furnace is broken again! What else could possibly go wrong today?” My daughter came down for breakfast and told me that she heard mice in the walls (again).
I finally lost it and the tears poured out. This house was a big source of stress for me and I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I said a vague and desperate prayer, “God, I am losing it. I can’t live like this anymore. I need something to offer me a sense of ease.” I didn’t know what I was praying for, but I expected the answer to come with a price tag I could not afford. I also knew I wouldn’t find the solution without a little divine intervention.
This house was too much. I had been spending $1,700/month for six years renting from a landlord who was mostly absent. He lived all the way across the country, was impossible to get in touch with and didn’t want to spend a dime on home repairs. Mice? “Oh, that’s just Connecticut in winter for you. Set some traps, it’s the best you can do.” No heat in winter? Well, he actually fixed that problem, but only after waiting three freezing cold days before getting ahold of him. I knew it was time to find a new place. And I knew my kids would not be happy to move. Despite the many hiccups, my kids LOVED our home. It was well-decorated, had a big yard and its own unique charm. They could all walk to their respective schools and their dad lived just around the corner. I would need to find an attractive alternative.
When I looked on Zillow, my jaw dropped. Three-bedroom homes in town (and there weren’t many) were going for $3,000/month. There was no way I could make that work on my salary. No freaking way. So, I stayed where we were, with our nice, fixed rental rate of $1,700. I tried to focus on the positives and crossed my fingers that my landlord wouldn’t raise our rent or kick us out anytime soon.
But he had other plans and I read about them via text:
“We are selling the house and we would like you out by the end of the month.”
Where would we go? I knew I couldn’t afford rentals in town. I felt defeated, sad and scared and I let myself sulk in self-pity for a few hours. Then, I wiped my tears and told myself that fear is a liar and that the unknown is never as scary as it feels. I searched Zillow, Hot Pads, Airbnb and all over Facebook. I asked friends and family if they knew of any three-bedroom homes in the area. I cursed inflation but remained steadfast in my search. “You are creative, Suzanne, don’t give up yet.” With no options and less than two weeks until move-out day, I refused to give up.
Letting go of my previous expectations, I emailed local hotels and asked if they had a long-term rate. Much to my surprise, a local hotel had something even better: a two-bedroom apartment! It was far from perfect: $2,200 for a massive downsize, one bathroom for four of us, and a longer drive to the kids’ schools and their dad’s house. But with no other options and time ticking away, I had no choice but to sign on the dotted line.
My kids weren’t thrilled. “We won’t be here too long,” I told them. “Let’s make the best of it.” And that’s what we’ve been doing ever since. We play ping-pong and chess, sit in the sauna, use the hotel gym and save money by indulging in the continental breakfast most mornings. Thursday nights have quickly become our favorite night of the week because the hotel restaurant hosts trivia and we have a blast playing together.
During our first week as hotel residents, it hit me: This was the answer to my vague prayer for a sense of ease. With ample storage and closet space, our clothes are neatly stored. Maintenance is onsite and quick to respond to any repair needs. The cleaning team comes every Tuesday to provide clean towels, change the sheets and vacuum the floors. I feel less alone — like I have help taking care of all the little things that caused so much stress and frustration in our previous home. Knowing this is temporary, I am soaking it all in while I can and doing so with gratitude.
I’m not sure what’s next for us or when, where or how we’ll find our next long-term home. We are fortunate to have our hotel apartment for a few more months and I’m doing everything I can to stay in the moment and avoid fear.
This whole experience has taught me that sometimes the solution to our problems is something we could never think up or imagine on our own. So, of course, while I search Zillow, Hot Pads and Facebook, I am throwing up some prayers, too.
Would you ever consider doing what the above mother did? Let us know in the comments below.
Kati Szilagyi
Follow Article Topics: Lifestyle
