We moved to this house in August, or was it July? Who knows? It's a rental. I love this house, we were happy here, as happy as circumstances allowed. But now that David died in this house, I don't want to leave it. But it's not mine. It belongs to my landlord, a divorced single mom (for 10 years) of two grown daughters. She moved away to take a job in another city. I can't bear the thought that she may want it back some day. On the other hand, I don't know if I can afford to stay here. I'm trying, but it's tough.
My landlady wrote me the other day and said she would like to sell it to me, was I interested? Heck yeah I'm interested but I also know I could probably never come up with the financing, short of a miracle. Our credit is toast and I have little to no down payment, even though I make great money. I don't take her question seriously though because she's a little flaky.
How in the world will I ever leave it? I know I need to prepare myself for the possibility. My lease is up in August, or July, I don't want to look it up. It would be like ripping off the band-aid all over again, especially if it's anywhere near the date of the first anniversary of his death. That would kill me. How much more?
I know. I'm borrowing heartache. It's just a building after all. Right? Maybe the best thing for me to start healing would BE to leave this house. I don't know. I need to think this through, but it's hard to think when it's still so raw.
Now who's flaky?