2020 keeps fucking delivering. Last month, I called my landlord to renew my lease. It was then that he let me know, sotto voce, they’re only doing month-to-month from now on, and the reason is because the private owner of this 44-unit complex has been in a year-long contract for sale to a corporate owner, and the deal was set to close soon.
The corporation is a developer.
This will be the first time in my life that I’ll be evicted because my home is getting demolished. But I’ve gotten used to places I’ve lived no longer existing.
The sale is still held up in city hall, with the zoning changes and site plans still under approval. COVID19 isn’t making it any faster. The hint I’m getting from the landlord is that we have until October 31 to get out, but nobody’s said anything solid yet.
The only official word of anything is a note pinned to every door last weekend:
[redacted] Apartments is under contract and being sold to a new owner. We are in the process of getting information regarding the new owners intentions for management, but it is our understanding that there will be a 30 day notice of nonrenewal given at the end of September (the anticipated close), for an October 31 move out. We wanted to notify our residents in advance.
So, as if this year isn’t debasing and unbalanced and chaotic enough, I’m getting the carpet literally ripped out from under me.
- The sale fails because the plans don’t get approved before contract deadline, meaning the current owner has to regroup and write leases with current tenants and scramble to fill the units that’ve been empty for months.
- The sale succeeds, but the new owner wants to maintain the property as a multi-family apartment dwelling, meaning they will write leases with current tenants and scramble to fill the empty units. The leases will be at grossly inflated rates for profit, and some tenants will me moved around so they can remodel (which affects me, because mine missed the remodels years ago).
- The sale succeeds, and the new owner is a developer, so they evict all of us and demolish this property, the empty restaurant behind us, and the appliance repair shop next door, and combine all three lots into one so they can dig a hole and build a 5-story mixed-use midrise.
With so much in the air, I’ve decided the only sure solution is to move.
I’ve been here nine years. It has taken me being in quarantine the past 5 months to finally make it feel like my home and not a closet where I stash my stuff while I’m out and about. I never quite fully took advantage of the place, never had people over, never threw wine and cheese parties, never got my balcony set up for hanging out, and didn’t quite make full use of the antennas that I’ve hesitantly hung in the tree outside.
I’m looking around nearby neighborhoods for a new apartment, and have set a ceiling on what I’m willing to pay. Aside from the 5-story mixed-use midrise already next door (the reason why the tax on this property tripled in 3 years after it was built), I think I’m paying only slightly below market value for the square footage. So there’s some wiggle room.
Life comes at me fast, and I’m doing my best to hold it together. It’s a lot of work.