Moooooving...

Last night around 10:11 p.m. central standard time, Seth and I discussed a very important, and ridiculously grown up topic.

Me. Getting the heck out of my overpriced downtown studio.

If it's not the ants that have decided they LOVE living with me (no matter how much ant poison I use, or how squeaky clean I keep my apartment-- they have built permanent condos in the always fabulous #405), it's my arms falling off carrying my groceries three blocks from my ridiculously overpriced parking garage to my apartment. If it's not the elevator getting stuck forcing me to entertain the lovely 911 operator (true story) until I am unstuck, it's the drunk homeless man somehow finding his way into the building at 2 a.m. and screaming as loudly as possible for an hour on MY floor of all floors.

For reasons only post-college traumatized Amy can understand, when I chose my apartment, I did so in order to justify two conditions:

1. I want to live downtown.
2. I want to live downtown.

Being the solitary non-accountant in the family, I didn't really think about what that meant from a budgetary standpoint.

Or from a safety walking from your car to your apartment after dark aspect either.

The time has come to move.

Which sounds incredibly exhausting just thinking about it...