Novel Addictions

Sometime soon (and I don’t know when), we’ll be moving. We’ll have to; our lease is up in June, and we’re not sure we want to sign another. Will would like to be closer to work. The other possibility is that he’ll get a promotion, and we’ll move before June.

I have mixed feelings about moving. On the one hand, I want to stay in the city. I love the atmosphere with its constant activity, abundance of restaurants, culture, diversity, unique neighborhoods, and entertainment. On the other hand, a big part of our reason for moving comes from the expense of living here. Our rent is–in our small-town minds–exorbitant. Granted, we knew when we moved here that it wouldn’t be a cheap way of life. We understood that we’d be paying for the experience of living here rather than living frugally and counting our pennies. But it was worth it, and we wouldn’t trade the experience for anything else.

However, times change, people change, and eventually, reality sets in. We want a house–a real house–not just a condo or a loft with a small amount of space we purchased so that we could say that we live in the city. And Will is getting tired of his daily commute, which can be up to two hours one way if traffic is snarled on the interstate. I want Will to be happy, but I also want the option to stay at home, raise my children, write full-time, and lead the lifestyle that we’re accustomed to without too much drama and adjustment. The only way to do that is to move into a cheaper apartment while we save for a home. Our rent is more than what most people pay for a mortgage (as our families remind us frequently).

I don’t have any regrets about our time in the city. Chicago is a great place to live and work, and if staying here were an option, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I hope we’re able to stay in the suburbs at least for a little while longer. But if we can’t, I can look back on our time here and say, “That was fun. Living in Chicago was one of the best times we had.”