It's On

In the last 2 days, we have seen 5 apartments -- 4 of them were this afternoon. And we've called and e-mailed dozens of places. We have appointments with 2 different brokers tomorrow, and another appointment with another broker the following day. And what do we have to show for this effort? Well, certainly not an apartment; we've only just begun. According to Todd, we had to look at 20 apartments the last time we did the hunt. We've even decided that we can pay more and live (gasp!) with carpeting instead of hardwood floors. Provided the carpet does not look like an animal died on it ("No pets allowed! This carpet already has all the dead pets it can take!").

And speaking of carpets that look horrible, the place we looked at yesterday was loads of fun. The broker told us before taking us to look at it that "there is some paneling." I've never gotten a paneling warning before. When we walked in, what I actually noticed first was the carpeting, which looked like it was the approximate color of dog shit. It must hide stains really well. And then there was the paneling. Whoa to the paneling!! It came from the '70s, that paneling, especially the "stone" paneling behind the non-functional fireplace. Not that we need a working fireplace -- what are we gonna do, go chop some wood? Not bloody likely. I told the broker I thought that the place "needed some updating."

Perhaps the best part of this apartment was the ceiling: As we stood there, talking to this broker, I noticed that Todd's head looked awfully close to the ceiling fan. If he were a few inches taller, he could have gotten a haircut. Or suffered a horrible Darwin Awards-type fate. The low ceilings in the apartment would mean that, if we lived there, we would have to pre-screen our friends according to height: "Oh, so you're 6'2"? Gee, I'd really like to have you over for dinner, but you'd probably be beheaded. I think you might be too tall to be my friend. Sorry!!"

We also saw a similarly disappointing apartment today. Maybe it was even more disappointing because it sounded so good on paper, and I found myself falling in love with my imaginary version of it. The best part is that it would allow me to walk to work because it was so damn close. So we sped over there only to find that it was a craphole in a great location. And we were even thinking it might be doable, what with its smallish rooms and strange carpeted area that the broker first insisted was a hallway, but then said was a dining room. A hallway AND a dining room? It must be my lucky day! But then we saw the kitchen, which contained what appeared to be a glorified easy-bake oven and no counter or cabinet space. Which might explain all the junk sitting on the floor of this place. Judging by the tenant who was there (as we walked through trying not to insult the place), this is really a student apartment. The thing is, we're all growds up now, and want a real oven. The broker tried to tell us that this was a big kitchen. Try selling that line to some 18-year-old, mister. He also kept telling us that they would clean it before we would move in. Well, that's nice, but are you gonna knock down some walls and make the place bigger too?

From there, Todd and I went to look at some apartment complexes, which we consider our fallbacks. Every apartment looked the same, but it's damn close to the train station. Just not much else. I just don't think I'm the apartment complex type. It's too quiet. Where are the loud stereos? Where are the drunken people on the street who just closed down the bar around the corner? Where is the sound of cars on the street? Not at apartment complexes. Also, because everything looks the same, I would probably get lost looking for my own apartment. And what do I need with a swimming pool and tennis courts? I don't like to swim and I don't play tennis. Instead of lying by the pool and watching people park their minivans, I want to go to a cafe around the corner.

Maybe the highlight of today, however, was when someone e-mailed Todd back about an apartment about which we had inquired. The ad had said it was "small" so we wanted to find out just what that meant. The person told us that is was 300 square feet, and that might be too small for a couple, but we should let him know. Might be?! We should let him know?! Somebody pour me a drink, stat.