I won’t lie. We’d been talking about moving for a good long while before we actually decided to look at other places. For a good long while we’d discussed the fact that we have some things we really want to make happen (international travel, health insurance, breast reduction, paying off all of our debts, etc.) And one thing kept coming up. All of those things require money. Lots and lots of money.
Now don’t get me wrong. I loved where we were living. I loved being in walking distance of Temple Square, the Broadway Centre Cinemas, the Gateway Mall, Golden Braid Books, Hatch Family Chocolates, the Atlantic, Sam Wellers, more restaurants, parks, shopping, and entertainment than you can shake a medium-sized stick at, and Trax, which gives you access to everything else. (Just writing that paragraph made me homesick.)
Despite my sincere love of downtown living and it’s benefits, things slowly started happening that felt like signs, put there specifically to get us thinking about moving.
The first was the dishwasher. Up until this incident we’d always been very satisfied with the building’s maintenance department, so when we noticed that the dishwasher had started leaving a film on everything, we expected that they would come, fix whatever the problem was, and we’d be done. They came, they ran some sort of acid through the system, and said that that should clear it up. And when it didn’t they said that it might take a few acid washes, we called again. And again. And again. In short they did the acid wash 4 or 5 times, and we could see that the white film on our dishes was getting worse and worse, and wouldn’t wash off. Finally they sent up the head of maintenance, who told me that it was probably not a film to much as the fact that the glass was being etched. Meaning that a lot of our dishes were now permanently damaged. This felt like a bit of a sign, that our apartment was starting to break our stuff.
The second happened a day later. The newly installed dishwasher seemed okay, but we noticed that there was a spot on the floor right in front the sink that looked like water damage. I reached into the cupboard to get the dishwashing soap and realized that it was wet, and the whole cupboard was wet, in fact. We called maintenance again (which was starting to feel like a mistake.) They came up and said that it looked like one of the valves hadn’t been tightened enough when they put in the new dishwasher, but it should be fine now. Later in the evening we noticed that the cupboard was even wetter, there was a wet spot in the carpet on the other side of the kitchen, and when we stepped on the floor water came up between the floorboards. We called again, this time the night manager. He managed to turn the valve the way that closes it, but the water was there. By the time they came to look at it the next day every floorboard had warped, necessitating a new floor, and not the nice real-wood one we had before, but a laminate in a color that was pleasant enough, but not near as nice as the old one.
The third was more what I did to myself, but it seemed to be pushing us out a little faster. When we moved downtown walking a few blocks felt so far away to me, coming from the suburbs. 2 months ago I realized that I would grab whatever I needed to mail, my wallet, and good walking shoes, and I’d hit the Post Office, Tony Caputo’s, Bruges Waffles, and Frosty Darling all on the same walk, and not even feel that I’d gone far. I love walking around downtown. No matter what direction I went from home, there was something to see or do. So about a month ago I sprained my ankle. The ankle in question is not in the best shape anyway (mission accident) but I managed to wrench it twice in two days.
The fourth came two days before we moved. One of our regrets, and our friend Laura’s very biggest regret about us moving was leaving the hot tub. Last Monday, after moving about a third of our stuff, we decided to take one last dip and relax those moving-strained muscles. We got our suits on, grabbed towels, and found ourselves standing in front of a “Pool closed for maintenance” sign.
It was time to go.