So I guess we’re really moving.

When we moved to the valley, we were in a bit of a rush because we were commuting 2.5 to 3 hours each day from Provo to downtown SLC. That plus eight hours of work and a half-hour lunchbreak meant that we were often gone for twelve hours a day. That got old real fast. So we were spending our Saturdays frantically apartment hunting, hoping to find something and then sell our current contract and get the heck out of Provo as fast as we could.

We spent one day looking at places that cost about what we were paying in Provo and quickly realized we’d have to spend quite a lot more than that to get something in a decent neighborhood. We looked at several places and finally found ours. We’d seen other places that cost what ours was going for, but none of them seemed as nice. While we weren’t thrilled about paying $140 more a month for rent than we had been, we loved a lot of things about it, and we needed to move.

That was two years ago. Last summer, when our lease was up, we decided to look around for something that was maybe cheaper or bigger or both. We found a couple of places that basically tied with this one, and in the end we decided we didn’t really want to move. So now we’ve been here two years, and the rent is going up. To be fair, rents are skyrocketing everywhere. Last year, I found quite a few two bedrooms under $700/month. Now it’s rare to find decent ones under $750. (To give you an idea, the going price for our current place is $80 more than we’re paying for it right now, $50 more than we would be paying if we renewed our contract.)

Because we’re trying to save money for grad school or cars or a house or all of the above, we didn’t want to pay even more than what we’re already uncomfortable paying. (Yeah, we’re cheap.) So we started looking again. I was sure we wouldn’t find anything that was a better deal this summer if we hadn’t been able to last summer before rents started going up.  I was sure we’d spend another year here, and I was glad of it. I like our apartment. I love the ward. I like the location and the pool and the grounds and our neighbors (or lack thereof). Even for $30 more per month, I figured this place was worth it.

And then we found a listing for an apartment in the Sugarhouse area—an area we’ve both liked for a long time. The rent was $45 cheaper than what we’re paying now and $75 cheaper than it would be if we renewed. It sounded promising, so we checked it out.

Large master bedroom: check. Eat in kitchen with tile, not old linoleum: check. Pretty yellow paint with white trim: check. Wood floors and tile everywhere: check. Large enough living room: check. Storage space: check. Big windows: check. Semiprivate yard: check. Nice residential neighborhood: check.

We left, and I said, “I really liked it.” And Jon Boy said, “I really liked it too.”  We took the application, drove home, filled it out, and returned it that afternoon. We didn’t want to be too late and find out someone else had already snatched it right under our noses like had happened three times already this spring.

On Monday we got a call from the landlords saying they wanted to run a credit check but wanted to make sure we really wanted to rent the place first. We talked and prayed about it and told them to go ahead. I listed our current apartment on craigslist and then spent Tuesday and Wednesday showing it and responding to over a dozen emails about it. On Thursday a couple came and liked it enough to put in an application. On Friday they signed a lease and put down a deposit. They want to move in on June 5th.

Two weeks from today, we’re leaving. I’ll admit, I have mixed feelings. Not about the apartment itself. But after two years here, it feels like home, as much as an apartment can. I have many friends in the ward, though I might continue going to the playgroup so I can keep in touch with them. I know where all the shopping is around here, and where the fun things to do with a baby are located. Most of all, I feel a little guilty about leaving the ward without an organist. I just hope someone who plays the organ moves in within the next two weeks. Wouldn’t that be great?

But I know that moving is the right thing right now. I feel really good about it. Now if I could just get myself to feel really good about all the packing and cleaning I’m going to be doing in the next two weeks . . .


  1. Yeah, you really do. When I told the bishop and the first counselor, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads. The first counselor said, “Noooo!” pretty loudly. And then I told the ward chorister, and she just shook her head and made these sad sighing sounds. I think it’s going to be hard for them to even find someone who plays the piano.

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