The desk of my home office, where I do all my writing, faces a window. I love the natural light pouring in. It’s my own little beautiful world, whether it’s sunbeams streaming in or rain gently spattering the window (or, because I’m in Florida, at times drumming into it with impressive force). I’ve got a comfy faux-leather executive chair and a beer fridge next to me (hey, sometimes it’s necessary.) There’s just one problem. The window overlooks a parking lot.
When my partner and I decided to move to Orlando, it was on very short notice. I’d been offered a job that was too good to pass up, and they wanted me to start soon. We had to uproot our entire life. For me, this was particularly devastating. I had to leave my circus school where I taught aerial silks, my father who lived in the same city as I, and our beautiful house with its cheap rent. I also had to compete for housing in a quickly-growing metropolitan area where rent was three times as high, while coordinating all the moving logistics. I was on the phone or the Internet constantly. I consulted with a realtor friend who told me that I might not find a place to live in time.
When we finally found an apartment complex that had available units that didn’t suck, we jumped on the chance. At the time, moving costs were piling up from the U-Haul and movers and all the miscellaneous expenses, and I, as a…
