Beginning Word Count: 41,240
I am a mortgage underwriter. I've only been doing that for about nineteen months now. Before that, I was a mortgage processor -- and I did that for about nine years. Anyway, in May 2012, I got promoted from processor to underwriter, and I've worked pretty hard to learn the new job. When I first received the promotion, my position allowed me to remain in Montgomery. However, at the beginning of 2013, my company made the decision to centralize underwriting.
And that meant I had to choose between changing jobs or moving towns.
I had worked really hard to become an underwriter. Really hard. Still, it was not just my decision, so after a short talk with John (who is a very supportive husband), we decided that we would move from Montgomery to Birmingham.
I'd lived in Montgomery since I graduated from college. I own my own house. I had three cats. And moving, well, I had not done that since I bought my home fourteen years ago. To say that this was frightening was an understatement.
But still, my company was willing to pay moving expenses, and it was just an opporunity that we could not let pass us by.
So, after a family discussion, I let my company know that I'd be moving from Montgomery to Birmingham. It's a mere ninety miles up the road from Montgomery, but it might as well be another state.
Firstly, after we decided we would move, the hunt for a place in Birmingham to live began. This sounds easy enough. Except we had three kids. Fur kids. John and I knew that we were not going to buy a house in Birmingham, at least not until we were more familiar with the city and we had sold the house. So that meant renting.
This is when the stress began. Every apartment complex listed a pet policy that would be a problem. No cats. If cats were allowed, there was a maximum two pets. Monthly pet rent on top of pet deposits. We have three cats. I was not going to get rid of one of my cats. They are all my kids. Sam has been with me for fifteen years. Gus for eight. And Thames was our unexpected kitten, all grown up. How could we pick one? And what kind of parents would we be if could? or even would?
So we looked elsewhere. I started looking on Zillow and found a cute little apartment, and emailed the manager about it. And right after I clicked send, I realized that the apartment did not have central heat and air....so I kept looking. But that manager wrote me back. I emailed him and told him I really was looking for central heat and air. And that we had three cats.
And he wrote me back again, with three apartments and confirmation that we could have our furr babies in the apartment.
We finally had some hope. John and I set an appointment with him to look at the apartments. The day before we were to meet him, he wrote that he had to cancel because of something coming up. Still, John and I had the addresses, so we decided we could at least go see the neighborhoods.
Thus began my first trip to Birmingham with a destination other than the Galleria, the Summit, or the Office. Every time I drove to Birmingham, it was I-65 to I-459. But this was a different trip, with a different exit from the interstate. And Birmingham hit us with the roads....and the hills. The GPS took us the absolute most annoying way to get to our first destination, a place called The Terrace Apartments. I can find it now a lot more easily. Still, that first drive was terrifying. Steep hills with stupid stop signs at the very top. Coming around that corner to that first visit to the Terrace, we were treated to a beautiful view of Birmingham. Then we turned to the driveway and drove up to our first Birmingham apartment complex. Firstly, I'm surprised my steering wheel survived that driveway without permanent indentations. It was steep, probably the steepest hill we had encountered yet that day. The driveway led to an obnoxious parking lot. While it was not undriveable, I could not get out of my mind that in Birmingham, they do get some winter weather. Sure, it is nothing like the northern states, but still -- ice and snow happen with greater frequency than they do in Montgomery. And the driveway and parking lot looked treacherous dry. I didn't want to contemplate driving them wet, or in the dark, or in the snow. Still, we were here, so we parked.
The complex had a stunning view of the city, and included a walking path up to Vulcan Park, which also has a beautiful view of Birmingham. The Terrace boasts that it has the best view in Birmingham, and from what we could see while touring the premises, I can understand why they would make that claim. And I can give them credence. They have a stunning stunning gorgeous view. They also have a freaking treacherous driveway and parking lot. Ultimately, we were pretty sure we did not want to rent there at this point -- based purely on the parking lot.
But we were not yet done. We had no idea at this point that the Terrace was nothing. NOTHING I tell you. That parking lot was... tame.
The next place we looked at was a place called The Irish. From the pictures I had seen on line, this was the one that I knew I was most interested in. It was beautiful. Hardwood flooring, sculpted plaster fire places, big french doors. Stunning. So we drove up 13th Street. Okay, I had thought the road up to the Terrace was scary. I was wrong. 13th Street is scary. 13th Street is steep. Then there were cross streets which had drop offs. And I was driving up the street thinking "I cannot do this in winter. I can't do this in rain. But maybe it gets better."
It didn't. We finally made it to The Irish. It had a flat parking lot. That was about the only flat part of the area up there. Just driving by, we could figure out no way to get into the parking lot, much less locate a space for our car. It was impossibly crowded, ridiculously crowded. So, we did not stop to walk the premises. I just drove down the street. At the bottom intersection, cars were parked along both sides of the street I was on and the cross street, making it impossible to see oncoming traffic. John had to get out of the car to spot so that I could make a right turn. And that was pretty much it for the Irish. There was no way I could drive those streets. I could not see driving home or to work or parking the car. I decided right then and there that I did not even want to see the Irish. What would be the point? I'd walk in the door and fall in love with the place, and then be torn. I could not drive that road, not without nearly screaming. I could not face that day in and day out.
So we ruled it out, and drove to the last one. I can't even remember that one's name. When we arrived there, we discovered there that the apartment had street parking. This is code for "we don't have parking. you figure it out." Still, that was just one black mark. We found a place to stash the car, and went to look at the premises. It was what is known as a brownstone. There were two doors...one outside leading to a communal stairwell, and that led to the apartment. The stairwell should have been secure, but, one of the tenants had left the stairwell door open. So we almost went in. But the place smelled. it was a bit...disgusting. We were unimpressed.
However, while we had been driving around, we saw these signs for Blue Canoe Properties. Every one of them looked nicely maintained. We decided to give them a call.
A couple of weeks later, we were back in Birmingham, this time to meet with Blue Canoe Properties. Blue Canoe showed us five places, and each one of them had strong positives...and a negative. Then they showed us the Courtyard. The parking lot. I've come to accept that this is Birmingham, and driving up hills is going to be a necessity. However, 13th street remains daunting and unnecessary.
Once we had accepted the size of our new place, packing began in earnest. The apartment was half the size of my house. And it was on the third floor. Things had to go away. Only half of what I had could reasonably come from Montgomery to Birmingham.
We gave things away, and threw things away, and boxed things up.
The day before our move, we drove up to Birmingham, with the cats, to take them to the boarding facility. We took both cars so that John's car would be here -- as he was driving the truck. The cats got dropped off, and promised that we would be back the next day to get them. We lied. It was two days before we could get them. Honestly, we didn't want to leave them where we did. It was not the best cat facility. It smelled, and they stuck them in the surgery room. I didn't really mind them there -- but I knew right then and there (we both knew) that this would not be their vet. The surgery just didn't look sterile.
Then we drove home to spend our last night at our home in Montgomery.
On the day of the big move, leaving Montgomery was not too bad. But when we got to Birmingham, things went south. Firstly, we had an issue with backing up the moving truck. That was a nightmare. The drive is a bit steep (yeah, you didn't see that coming), so John drove the truck down and tried to do a three point turn. Unfortunately, the driveway/parking pad where he pulled forward for the back up is constructed really wrong. There are two ledges and a couple of hidden curbs. And of course John got the tires caught between them, and the truck got stuck. Fortunately, we had a friend who was helping us move, and he was totally unintimidated by the stupid thing. They had this thing licked -- until the power chord tried to get stuck between the truck cabin and the storage area. They had that handled too. So after about thirty minutes of parking what was soon to be officially dubbed the Truck From Hell, the moving truck was finally secured in a spot, and we were ready to begin.
Unfortunately, that was not the last strike of the Truck from Hell (that really should be said with a booming voice that echoes). In fact, that was the mild attack. That was, in fact, nothing.
Despite telling me while he helped me load the truck in Montgomery that he would NOT be helping me unload the truck in Birmingham (with no argument from me, mind you), my Dad decided that since he was going up the stairs to see my apartment, he would bring a box, he opened up the back, and fell off the truck. And broke his leg. On the plus side, we got to find out the response time for emergency services and discovered that the hospital within walking distance of my apartment is really awesome. On the down side, my dad has never seen my apartment. He spent three nights in the hospital in Birmingham and then three weeks in rehab in Montgomery. Six months later, he is still recovering from that.
It was truly the Truck from Hell.
And while I pared down my house by more than half, I cannot honestly say I have missed the things. I love the new city that we live in, and every time we go out, it is a new adventure.
Today's word count: 2,040
Total Word Count: 43,280
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