Lately, I’ve been thinking about doing the most grown-up thing I could ever imagine doing: buying a home. I’m not getting any younger and I can’t necessarily bank on ever getting married (sorry, mom). But I am just about tired of renting. So I’ve been checking out listings online of homes for sale. I’ve even gone through the first step of speaking with a loan officer at my bank. The good news is I am a prime candidate to get approved for a home in the range I’m considering. Every decision I make from this point forward, however, is probably going to be excruciating.
The largest purchase I’ve made in my life to this point is a car. I’ve always rented, so I’ve never known the joy of needing to repair a blown furnace, damaged roof or leaky pipes. These are things that frighten me. Are they scarier than clowns and bats? Let’s not get carried away.
What this all boils down to is I feel I am ready to put down roots in a house. I’m ready to stay in one place for more than 12 months at a time. I’m ready to stop looking at the calendar to see when I can decide to move again.
But here’s the funny part: am I ready to do that in Indianapolis or Las Vegas?
Yes, I buried the lead. The truth is I miss Las Vegas. I liked what I was experiencing in the southwest. I loved the weather and loved the routine I was finding. I did not love the sporadic paychecks, lack of health insurance and living so close to the bone that I didn’t have any furniture. That’s why I do not intend to move back to Vegas the same way I got out there the first time.
In case you forgot or don’t know, I seized a target of opportunity back in 2009. I had a golden opportunity to land the best job in the world. Too bad the economy had other ideas for me. There were other circumstances (yes, the girl) that brought me back to Indy. But the hard reality is I could not survive in Las Vegas as a part-time, extraboard dice dealer. I am eternally grateful for the opportunity extended to me, but it just wasn’t a sustainable model.
When I moved back to Indy, I was broke, unemployed and my car was falling apart. It took me five months to land a job; the most stressful five months of my entire life. Now, two years later, I’m a completely different person than I was when I moved back…well, sort of. For the past two years I’ve rebuilt my life around one central theme: financial responsibility. I’ve been a bill-paying, debt-killing machine. I’ve got a bit more debt to kill, but I’m at a place with debt and money that I’ve never been before: solvent. I no longer over-extend myself via credit cards. I no longer piss away money every weekend in bars. I no longer have a girlfriend either, but that’s another story for another time.
As much as I love Indianapolis—and I truly love this city—I love Las Vegas too. No, not because I want to live on the Strip and take up gambling as a hobby. I also have no intention of unretiring my dealing hands. Once I left the Wynn, I knew that was it. I’m happy in my current career. I just want to be happy in my current career in a much warmer climate than Indy.
With that in mind, it’s making it difficult for me to look at homes in Indy because I’m not sure I’ll be able to turn off that desire to head west. Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know. I mean, I love Indy and consider it home.
The downside to thinking about moving to Vegas is I can’t do it the same way I did before. I can’t go the Ready, Fire, Aim route again. I can’t rely on the hospitality of old friends to get by. I can’t move unless I have a full-time job in the bag. In short, I have to do it the right way this time. The good news is I now have the financial wherewithal to do that. I’m just not sure about the timing…and then there’s the job thing.
Yikes. Who knew looking for a house would dredge up all this madness? I’m going slightly mad just trying to decide what sort of house I’d like to buy. And now I’m not even sure if I want to buy one in Indy. Ugh. I’m a gigantic idiot.