04 June 2006

Moving On Upish

So, last week, I moved twice. Once out of the dorm (it's about time, Sophia) into my new apartment(!), and then back home for the summer. It was a last minute, split decision to stay in the same vicinity, and just so I would not miss dorm life too much, I moved pretty much right across the street from that grand tower that intersects the heavenlies.

After a long talk with my patient, insightful, and always-there-for-me best friend over what the heck I should do, I buckled down and bombarded Craig's List. And let me tell you, Craig was ready for me to raid his list, because I did, and I had no regrets about it. He didn't either. I narrowed down my search to five apartments. After contacting all the landlords and making arrangements to visit them the next day, I ran out to my car and drove out to see them all ahead of time, because I'm neurotic like that. I thought they looked pretty nice for the most part, so I didn't cancel any of the appointments, except for the one with the rotting porch and the broken glass.

Then, a light from heaven shone down (it could've been a light from my dorm) and I remembered this girl who posted an ad on campus, looking for a roommate. I thought I'd give it a try, so I looked her up on our school's stalkernet directory, and I called her. She responded promptly, so I became a little skeptical. But see, I'm sketchy, so I went along with it. The only time that worked for both of us to meet was 11 pm that evening, or 8 am the next morning. We settled for that evening, and I went over to her crib. I got a good feeling about it, and about her, and I almost told her that I was "in" if it was alright with her, but I said that I would tell her the next day for sure.

Sure enough, said "next day" came around, and I began my apartment visits. The first studio I visited was so sketchy - even too sketchy for me. It was about the size of my dorm room, reeked of cigarettes, and was as dark as a room with one little window in it, perhaps because it was a room with one little window in it. The next apartment I went to, the landlord met me and said he couldn't show it to me because he was in the process of evicting the current tenant. He offered to show it to me later in the week, and then he asked me how long I'd be in town. People who know me know that I'm an awful liar, and I really didn't know what to say, and I really didn't want to see the apartment anymore, so I said I'd be leaving town in about 15 minutes.

Right after this, I called the ad girl and told her I really wanted to live with her next year. She said yes, and it was the beginning of a blissful year-long housing relationship.

Stay tuned for how I found all my furniture. You won't regret it. I already told one person about it, and he thought it was funny. OK, he was actually the person who helped me move all the furniture...


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