Making this decision requires a lot of number-crunching. Bringing in a contractor to advise you on the cost of your potential remodel and working with a realtor on a potential sale will give you the data you need to decide whether it's time to stay or go.
I had bruises the day after my first massage in L.A., the result of some heretofore unknown (by me, anyway) brand of stabbing, poking bodywork. At least it lasted only 90 minutes -- my first haircut here took two days.
When I saw the citizens of Boston finally return to the streets of their great American city, cheering the police and singing the Star Bangled Banner, I had tears in my eyes. Let's all remember, we truly are the land of the free and the home of brave. I hope we don't let fear rule our choices.
Most people assume summer is the ideal time to move -- kids are out of school, vacation time away from work is routine and the weather usually cooperates. But the realities are that scheduling a household move in spring actually makes much more sense.
House-hunting is fun for about the first week; after that, it's fraught with existential angst. Where will our new pizza joint be? What neighbors will we have, and what will they be like? What sort of days will fill our daily lives?
Last summer after my grandma passed away, I had a conversation with my mom about whether or not it's a good idea to return to your childhood home after you've moved out and on with your life. "I know I never could because I knew it wouldn't be the same," she said.
Change is like going on an expedition: It can be a trudge or a hike. Take it all in and enjoy the view, or focus on the faults -- it's absolutely a choice. Here are some lessons I've learned about encountering change, some by resisting it and some by jumping into it with two feet.
No matter what job we get or relationship we embark upon, the practice of doing the same thing every day is a form of monotony we're not easily accustomed to, and the thought of it continuing on forever creates terror in our liberated souls.
I haven't lived alone since 1986, when I had an apartment in York Harbor, Maine, near the beach. I was there for six months until my husband, then boyfriend, whisked me away to his apartment above a garage in Rye, NH on the beach.
Last week I met one of the most interesting Internet personalities ever: The Modern Nomad. He takes the art of alternative living to a new level. He has no home. What he owns fits in his backpack. Every few months he packs up and explores a new part of the world.
New York is a hard place to say no to. There's an undeniable energy percolating the air, a vibrant heartbeat pulsing the streets. Sure space may be limited and at a premium, but the backyard is the world's greatest playground.
Instead of reflexively wishing someone (or myself) "good luck," I will try instead for the will to be fallible -- the courage to believe that I don't know everything -- that I cannot control everything. In that way, perhaps, I'll find myself in the realm where miracles happen.