Stop me if you’ve heard this one…

At times I worry that my stories get a bit redundant. I’m just a single, city dwelling gal after all, albeit one that happens to move. A lot.

Hold on to your hats ladies and gents. For my next trick I plan on moving. Again.

I’ve mentioned before how the fact that I move every year has become a running joke among my nearest and dearest. In fact, I’m pretty sure certain family members have an entire address book devoted to me and my various, annually updated dwellings.

So here’s the skinny – and really, I’m not joking about another move. I have moved far too many times to consider it a laughing matter.

My current apartment, the one that I’m completely unpacked and settled into, is Amazing. It’s huge, sunny, clean, filled with new appliances, and even came along with a non-sketchy landlord to boot. It is also too darned expensive for one person making the paltry salary publishing slaves editors make. As you probably remember, I was in a bit of a bind with my living situation last winter. In fact, I was five days away from being homeless when my current little gem popped up. Of course, as gems sometimes are, this one was out of my price range even then – but I was beyond desperate for a sturdy roof over my head to put it mildly. So I bit.

I’m a pretty frugal girl to begin with (heaven knows I cannot resist a bargain) but I’ve had to tighten my belt so much these past months that I can barely justify one of my favorite morning rituals – the large coffee to go – purchased before I head into the office. Frankly, this tight money belt is cutting off my circulation. In fact, I’m turning blue.

So perhaps some moving Gods heard my pleas or I popped up in their lottery system after their intern reviewed my devoted on the move records because it appears they finally decided to cut me a break. During lunch one day last month, a co-worker mentioned that another co-worker was moving to Arizona. I had never seen moving co-workers apartment but I had heard her talk about the following, all strung together in one sentence, in regards to her apartment: great location, one bedroom, dirt cheap.

I wasn’t born yesterday, internet, and I know how hard it is to find a cheap one bedroom apartment in a great location in this city (oh believe me I know) so you can imagine how fast the wheels in my head got a-spinning. In typical city-living fashion I told my co-worker I was sorry she wouldn’t be in the Boston office anymore…but, um, could we talk about her apartment?

And that’s the short story. For a one bedroom, in a really glorious location, the place is a s-t-e-a-l. Honestly, I can’t wait to write my first rent check there later this summer because I’m going to feel like I’m actually getting money back from this sudden windfall. (To give you an idea of how great this bargain is? I will be cutting my rent payments IN HALF – yup – 50% off! – once I move.) Now this new place is smaller, older, and definitely not as fancy, schmancy as my current place. I’m giving up luxuries like a garbage disposal, dishwasher, my own laundry unit, and tons of space. There is a reason people say you get what you pay for after all. But! IT IS HALF OF WHAT I’VE BEEN SPENDING!

Imagine the possibilities! I’ll be able to afford to take yoga classes at the near-by-my-new-place yoga studio! I may even be able to justify joining a (God help us) gym! My credit card will breathe a sigh of relief! I will actually be able to afford not only cable but my very own internet signal rather then trying to steal it from my neighbor! AND I’ll be able to buy myself that large coffee every darn workday morning. Can I get a Hallelujah.

Of course, downsizing and “moving backward” on the creature comfort scale does make me a tad nervous. Sometimes I worry that I’ll be miserable in a smaller, less posh place, but then I think about how I’ll just repeat my mantra of “1/2 the rent. ½ the rent” and things will suddenly look great again. Plus, I happen to have inherited a pretty keen sense of décor from my interior design majoring Mum, so I think between the two of us we’ll whip this new place into a snazzy comfort spot in no time.

I never expected to move as much as I have in the ten years since I left my hometown, and there have been years when I’m so exhausted just thinking about packing up brown boxes that I come close to a nervous breakdown. Sometimes, though we do finally get to make lemonade from all those lemons that have been sitting around. And sometimes, if we’re very lucky, we catch a much-needed break. Then the future looks so bright we suddenly find we need to wear shades while sipping that nice cool glass of lemonade. Good thing my new place will have a little porch for me to do just that.