The Call

Today we received a call from our landlord, and it was not a good one. He told us that he would like to move back into his house, and he expects us to be out by July 1st. As you might imagine, this information put a slight damper on our otherwise pleasant day. So far, we've spent the evening scouring housing websites and driving around the local neighborhoods looking for signs in front yards.

We thought about all of the things we could've done differently over the past few months had we known that we wouldn't be staying here. Finally unpacking the last boxes in the garage over spring break now seems mind-numbingly futile. We will never enjoy our harvest from the backyard--tomatoes, onions, peppers, basil, cantaloupe, strawberries, peas, and asparagus will now be enjoyed by our landlord. The pictures we finally got around to hanging will now have to be taken down, and the holes will need to be patched.

When we moved out of our house in Pittsburgh, we had three buff and burly professionals packing all of our belongings to fit neatly into a moving truck. Now we'll have to pack everything ourselves, not to mention find new boxes. Once again, the irony is that we just took the last of the moving boxes to the recycling center just over a month ago.

We know we have to look at this situation with a positive attitude, but it is definitely difficult finding a house to rent with a pit bull and a miniature pinscher in tow. Maybe, just maybe, we'll be lucky enough to rent a place with a pool (or at the very least, a hot tub!).