9 Years a Condo Owner

corridorIn July of 2005, I bought a condo in St. Louis.

It was the first time I’d ever owned any form of real estate. I remember looking down my long hallways that first night, moonlight glinting off the floorboards, with a sense of awe. I own this floor. I own these walls. I own that ceiling.

Now 9 years have gone by. I never imagined I would be here for 9 years. The condo was a short-term plan, something to buy and sell within a few years, but things didn’t work out that way. No one could sell a house in 2008 or in the rough years that followed. In 2010, the plan was to sell my place and move to Charlotte with my long-distance girlfriend, but then I realized that I didn’t like her anymore. I then refinanced and settled in for the long haul.

This condo has seen me host 6 roommates: a college friend, a girlfriend, a yoga instructor, an actress, a cousin, and another college friend. Oddly enough, the best experience was probably with the girlfriend–the others were fine, but I greatly prefer living alone. Now there isn’t even space for a roommate since I work at home.

I think I’ve gotten to the point when it’s tough for me to imagine living anywhere else. Which is odd, because my place isn’t that great. It’s functional, but it’s certainly not the dream home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright I assumed I’d live in someday. I guess you just get used to the way things are over time, and you can’t imagine them being different, so different just seems worse.

Have you ever encountered that feeling about a home or anything else? What does it mean?