Mr. F and I have been crazy focused on our finances since our move to Atlanta. Not that we've ever been bad at spending our money, we just haven't been as good at it as we could have been. In Cyprus, we were totally strapped. People thought we were crazy and joking, but we weren't. It took some serious ingenuity and lots of homemade everything to keep us in the black. Mr. F's new job is offering us some very welcome financial security after a year of unemployment and a couple hard years of scraping by. We thought when we got here, we would want to live in a nicer place. More amenities, closer to the center, nice appliances, etc., etc. We've earned it. We told ourselves. So we looked. And looked. And looked. And ya know what? We really weren't happy with what we were seeing.
No, that's not true. We loved some of the options. Downtown high rise with views of the sunset that made my the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. Or the darling one-bedroom with a sunroom and a view of the trees just outside the Perimeter. Those were the homes of daydreams. They technically fit inside of our budget and met the qualifications for the lifestyle we thought we were after, but something was wanting. We weren't willing to spend as much as the landlords were asking.
One afternoon when I was in the city running errands, I got horribly lost and end up driving past an apartment complex that listed vacancies. It was nothing special. In fact, I was initially embarrassed pulling into the parking lot. What would people think of me pulling in here with my nice Volkswagen? Vanity, thy name is foolish. I stepped into the leasing office and made some inquiries. The rent was well below our set budget and the availability seemed promising. A few days later, Mr. F and I went back to check out a one-bedroom.
For the first time in our house hunt, we agreed on an apartment. It felt like home. And the strange thing is, it met very few of the qualifications we thought were so important to us. It's only a one-bedroom. Itty bitty kitchen. Wall unit AC, not central. No washer/dryer hook-ups. Carpet, not hardwoods. No gym. No brunch for tenants on Sunday morning. But it had a great price. Great layout. And a great feel.
A few weeks ago, I was reading in the scriptures and pondering over our quest to be more financially savvy and the, as we called it, Rat's Nest apartment. In 1 Nephi in the Book of Mormon, Nephi tells us that he and his brothers followed their father, Lehi into the wilderness surrounding Jerusalem. Lehi was the prophet and under the guidance of the Lord had taken his family outside the city walls to protect them and to preserve the fullness of the Gospel. In 2:15 I read, "And my father dwelt in a tent." That's it. The whole verse. And it hit me with the force of the lengthiest sermon. If a prophet could leave his home and live in a tent, you sure as heck can live in the Rat's Nest for a year or so. It was true. I could. From my religious upbringing I have learned the value of self-reliance and the importance of living within your means. The Lord told Lehi to live in a tent. He is asking us to live more frugally.
And so now, we're moving to the Rat's Nest. I'm not sure we will ever call it anything else. No, there weren't really rats. I am so excited about this move, I can't even tell you! We both are! To be saving so much money, to be living in closer proximity to both of our jobs. Our church community will be incredibly diverse, as will our neighborhood. We will be doing what God asks of us so that we can be ready for the future, not just the right now. And that is worth so much more than protecting my precious vanity.
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