I don’t always make the best decisions. Over the past few years, in fact, I’ve made a number of choices that turned out to be just plain bad. It’s not that they were inherently bad decisions like say, “Should I step out in front of this speeding truck? I think I will.” It’s just that when considering my options, I failed to see the possible consequences of one choice over the other. Not that I wasn’t looking for consequences – I look. I always look. And then I look some more. And then maybe I make a decision. And then maybe I even act on that decision.
It usually goes something like this: I need to cross the street. I’m at the corner. There’s a crosswalk. I look both ways. No cars. I look on the side streets to see if anyone is planning to turn. Still no cars. I check both ways once more. Nothing. I step out and halfway across the street I’m crushed by a speeding motorist. Why? Because even though I saw an alley halfway down the block, a one-way alley with a sign pointing away from the street, and even though I didn’t see any cars coming out of it, I didn’t consider that someone might pull out and speed down the street to run me over.
So a couple months ago, after I had a couple weeks off from work and realized that I had been spending way too much time at work, after I came home from Iowa and decided I had to find a way to save some money and stop working so much, a friend of mine from the restaurant who was staying with me until his townhouse was ready approached me with the idea of moving into said townhouse and splitting the rent with him. I thought about it.
I considered the benefits – I save money. I can cut down my hours. I live in a better neighborhood. I live in a bigger and nicer house. One with a real kitchen. I get to spend time with my son. When I’m not there, my son gets to spend time with another adult who he gets along with. I like hanging out with this friend and living with him will mean we get to hang out more often. We hang with the same group of people from the restaurant and since the house is just blocks from the restaurant, we can have people over to play cards and have a few beers.
I considered the negatives – I have to move. I hate moving. I have to live with someone else. I have to be considerate of another adult. I have to compromise on my tv viewing choices. He’s a bit younger and likes to have people over more often than I do. Like on week nights. When us old people like to sleep.
I even considered possible consequences – Maybe something will happen and he won’t be able to cover his share of rent one month or two or more. Maybe he’ll decide that he hates my son or me or vice versa. Maybe he’ll eat all my groceries and never buy any of his own. Maybe he’ll be a neat freak and roll his eyes every time I leave a glass on the end table. Maybe he’ll be a slob and I’ll roll my eyes every time he leaves a glass on the end table. Maybe he’ll leave the toilet seat up and I’ll fall into it in the middle of the night (my son has been properly trained).
Best case scenario, we would all make slight compromises and end up saving money and getting a little bit ahead. Worse case scenario, I would end up making more compromises than him, but still end up a little bit ahead. Worst case scenario, he would totally flake out, but I would be able to cover bills and even if I didn’t end up ahead monetarily, I wouldn’t be further behind and I would still live in a pretty nice house. So I decided to do it. The two of us sat down and worked out the splitting of rent and utilities, we talked about the challenges of living with a teenager (so he wouldn’t be surprised later), we discussed the cats, we met with his landlords, we signed the lease, he helped us move one weekend and it was done.
What I failed to consider was this – He’ll get his car towed the weekend we move. The next weekend, he’ll decide he needs to go to the store after I’ve gone to bed, he’ll see my car keys on the kitchen table, he’ll take them and he’ll drive my car into a tree.
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