I Hate My Job

I fucked up.

I fucked up real bad.

Just out of school, I chose the path of greed: I accepted the job that would allow me to move out of my mother's house instead of the job that I liked. And now I'm paying for it in stomachaches, stress, grey hairs, and pudginess.

I hate my job and I want to quit. Desperately.

The way I see it, I have 2 options:
Option 1: Get rich. Yeah, right.
Option 2: Wean off the paycheck.


Background
I have a condo that is rented out in NYC.
I am renting an apartment in the Midwest.

My husband says that if I want to quit my job, I have to sell the condo. I don't want to sell the condo. I like the condo. I like the fact that I have a condo in the middle of New York City. So I choose to interpret his condition as this: In order for me to quit my job, I have to make damn sure that the condo will pay for itself at least long enough for me to sell it in a calm, reasonable, and hopefully profitable manner in the event that keeping the condo is costing more than it is worth (i.e. the tenants stop paying the rent).

The Goals
1. Make the condo self sufficient with a large cushion so that I can pay the mortgage for a full year even if there are no tenants in it.
2. Pay off my car completely.
3. Find another stream of income.

The Plan
Goal 1. Pay off the small mortgage on the condo so that the monthly payments decrease by $400 per month: $2300
Goal 2: Pay off the car: $9800
Goal 3: Save up a year's worth of condo payments: $24,000