Last March 1, I arrived in St Paul and settled into my new position as property manager for a friend of my uncle’s. A job I’d counted on fell through and I found myself scrambling for income.
Those first few months were nerve-wracking, but I reinvented myself, became a book editor, and survived. There were tough times. Sometimes I wondered if I hadn’t made a big mistake. But it worked out. I’m doing okay. I make a lot less money than I did but in many ways, I’m happier, and isn’t that what matters? Material goods–money–are far less important to me than they used to be.
I’m still a property manager, but things changed radically. The building I live in? That deal fell through, and so my boss started looking for another property.
He fell in love with a 21-unit building near downtown St Paul. It was built in 1886 and used to be a hotel. Three floors of history, and a basement with blocked-off passages to the Wabasha Caves.
These things never proceed smoothly, but after many unexpected hiccups, it is now almost certain I’ll be relocating to that building. The apartment I want will be vacant March 1, exactly one year after I made St Paul my new home.
It’s on the top floor. Every room, including the bathroom, has windows. Because of its location, I will enjoy an astounding amount of privacy behind a fire door. Two bedrooms, and a kitchen so large you could skate in it. A living room with three large windows that face south.
One thousand square feet.
I’m not lying. That’s how much space I’ll have. I’m excited, nervous, freaked, and very happy. Why? ‘Cause the time is right. AJ’s moving in.
And so begins a new part of my life.