As I mentioned in an earlier post, we’re moving back to Ohio. We want a simpler life where our kids can grow up around family and experience seasonal affective disorder first-hand. Thus, with great hesitance, and sadness not seen since the last few seconds of Michael Jackson’s “She’s Out of My Life,” we are selling our home in Chula Vista (San Diego), California.
Our townhome is located in the East Chula Vista community of Otay Ranch. It’s an upper middle class suburb (the Great Recession allowed us to sneak in) full of diverse young families and fancy parks with splash pads and pools. There are also a number of rich Mexican housewives who drive Range Rovers and do not make full stops at stop signs.
Anyhow, Trader Joe’s is a five minute drive from our home, and the world’s best Walmart is just two minutes away. I’m being serious: Our Walmart was recently named Walmart of the Year. It stays open 24 hours a day and also functions as neighborhood’s only nightclub after 11:00 P.M.
As for “real” San Diego, beaches and bars and craft beer galore, that’s just 20 to 30 minutes away. The always eclectic Tijuana, Mexico is 15 minutes south. Most importantly, Otay Ranch schools are within walking distance and are ranked 9/10 by GreatSchools.org. That must mean something good.
Now to our home: It has three bedrooms and three bathrooms, wood floors downstairs (I never actually checked to see if they are real or laminate), and high ass ceilings. The carpet upstairs is new. Well, it’s like 18 months old, but since we’re still paying it off, I say it’s new. The master bedroom has its own bathroom and a big ol’ closet where my wife keeps all the clothes she’s ever owned, including decades old prom and homecoming dresses. This, I will never understand. The kitchen is pretty spacious by San Diego standards, especially if your kids can learn to keep all their s**t off the counters.