On the move, part two

Almost a year ago, I wrote about the decision my partner and I had made to sell our house and downsize to an apartment. We enthusiastically tarted up our house and rid ourselves of all manner of possessions as we dreamed of a simpler, more streamlined existence in our new, smaller home.

Alas, our house did not sell. In fact, it elicited almost no showings and so, after several weeks of only cooking foods that would not leave lingering odours lest they put a potential buyer off, tidying up compulsively after ourselves every time we left the house, tucking away all the messy details of our lives and missing our cat who had been sent off to her other home while – we thought – the house would be full of strangers,  we took it off the market. It was a relief, really, not to have potential showings hanging over our heads constantly, and we consoled ourselves by saying that when we listed it again, we at least would not have to do quite such a massive downsize.

We ventured back into the real estate market in late spring. Everything was much easier the second time around. The house and garden photos had already been taken. We could convert the place from its comfortable but not always completely tidy state to that of a showable house in less than half an hour.  Admittedly, after a showing, we’d often wander about wondering where we had put the loaf of bread or the butter dish or the garlic, but eventually we’d stumble on them; usually in the dishwasher, which is an excellent place to tuck away unsightly-to-potential-buyers items.

Sold!

In early July, we had an offer and, after a bit of back and forth-ing, we had a final offer, with all conditions waived. We had sold our house!

Now to figure out where we would live. We still liked the idea of being renters rather than owners. Obviously, the apartment we had so liked last fall hadn’t remained empty, so we had to start a new search. The availability of rental units was almost nil.  A new build at the end of the street where we live now looked possible, and the thought of moving into a space never before inhabited had its appeal, but the apartment had almost no storage space. We saw one apartment that ticked a lot of our boxes, but it was right next to the elevator, so we worried about noise. Mostly, though, there was nothing to see.

While rental housing was almost non-existent, condos were popping up on Realtor.ca almost every day, so we decided to reconsider our decision not to be property owners. We looked at a few places in two neighbouring buildings, rejecting each for one reason or another, even though we liked the location, the buildings’ amenities and the outdoor space, before we found the one that we think will be right for us. After a short exchange of offers and counter-offers, we had a deal.

A distasteful process

Not being particularly enthusiastic capitalists, my partner and I found the entire process – despite having the world’s best real estate agent—distasteful. I didn’t like having strangers traipsing through our house, where lots of family photos are on display and our political beliefs are evident in the books on the bookshelves and the art on the walls. Likewise, I didn’t like poking around in other people’s private spaces.

We’re happy to have both sold our house and bought the condo with a minimum of wheeling and dealing, but it wasn’t our idea of a good time. As delighted as we are by what will become our next home, we are equally pleased just to have the whole business over and done with.

Now, to the move

We may have done a major downsize last fall, but there is much more to be done. Moving from a two-storey house with a basement and a workshop into a two-bedroom condo with no garage and no separate storage space doesn’t happen without some effort.

Over the upcoming weeks, we’ll be sifting through our belongings and putting them in one of several (figurative) piles: bring to the condo, put into the storage locker we rented last year until we decide whether we need/want them, offer to children/friends, take to Habitat for Humanity, put at the end of the driveway labelled free, take to the dump.

There are sure to be some disagreements about what should go in which pile (I’m quicker to decide we don’t need to keep something than my partner is) but, rest assured, the potato ricer will be going in the “bring to the condo” pile.

It’s going to be a big adjustment. We’ll be living in closer quarters than we are used to. Going outside will require an elevator ride, as will bringing in groceries.  We are limited in what we are allowed to put on our balcony.  We’ll have to learn how to buzz up visitors. The kitchen isn’t great. Our closest friends will have to drive rather than walk when they come for dinner.

On the other hand, NO MORE STAIRS! Pets are allowed. There’s a room on the main floor where residents can keep a small freezer, and I’m already on the list for that. There are two pools—one on the roof and one inside. There’s a room with a ping pong table and another with exercise equipment. The party room is big and bright and has a full kitchen off to the side. There are lovely gardens around the building, with small plots where residents can grow their own vegetables or flowers and lots of shady spots for outside sitting and socializing. It’s a short walk to the community centre we already frequent, and there’s a butcher across the street.

What really sold us on the place is that it has floor to ceiling windows across the main room and two balconies. We look out onto trees and our living space is infused with light, light and more light.

We’ll miss this house, the incredible gardens my partner has created and the wonderful times we have had here on our own and with family and friends over the past 13 years, but we’re ready for this next stage in our lives.