As of now the only people who read my writing are the ones I call with every ounce of news, and if that wasn’t enough I crossed out “homeless” on my homepage because it’s one of the few ways to manipulate text on this savvy little program. Therefore you know, but I’ll say it (or reiterate it) because I’m that excited…I got an apartment! I keep getting the feeling that it’s misleading to say “apartment” because it’s so small, so I’ll be honestly specific: a studio…an apartment entirely made up of the bedroom itself. The kitchen fills half the hallway (narrow opening) to the bedroom (apartment) and the bathroom is connected to that hallway (kitchen). You’d have to see it.
The day leading up to finding this apartment at 5:30 went like every other day has gone: contacting realtors/brokers, making appointments, changing appointments, canceling appointments, and going to appointments only to be completely let down. The appointment beforehand actually went better than any other. I met a really nice woman who happened to be in the magazine industry (survivor) who I probably would’ve rented with if I didn’t find the perfect deal for a place for me and Nugget right after. Which brings me to my second point: Nugget is moving to New York! Here I’d like to claim that Nugget has always wanted this, but in reality the cold may make him cuss for the first time…ever. And for that I apologize, but I think we’ll both be so comforted by our reunion that we’ll brave this weather like champs (or bitter Southerners).
In the middle of a sequence of calls and call-backs between one realtor and I, I switched from housing panic to working panic, because he told me I needed to have proof I was at least doing something even with a guarantor. In this moment I had my second breakdown (the first being with my twin moments earlier) and frantically searched a different sector of Craig’s List for waitress or assistant positions. We both agreed I couldn’t accomplish this prerequisite in a day and I almost lost hope…on both searches. Then I found the perfect studio, perfect for Nugget and I, and barely within my price range (okay, $100 over my range, which was $100 short of my new, forced range). After arranging an appointment, I called ex-boyfriend, who deserves updates for tolerating all my complaining and unrealistic (and very realistic) worrying, and had my third breakdown of the day. In my excitement over this attainable find I apologized for constantly getting my hopes up even when they’re re-crushed each day. In my attempt to justify perpetually getting my hopes up, I realized how likely they’d soon be crushed, and the POW tears I’ve stubbornly denied for a week broke free from my grasp. And the unthinkable occurred shortly after: I finally found an apartment.
I have to admit the momentary part-time job search was nothing short of heartbreaking as I realized New York City requires fine dining experience and New York experience: two things I don’t have. I have years of Chili’s experience and a summer of down-home Southern Bar BQ experience, which are the furthest things from these requirements (no disrespect). Fortunately I snuck over to the writing/editing listings to apply to two more full time jobs, and I responded to a few administrative positions to feel accomplished.
To plop the perfect cherry on top of this finally rewarding (if $1100 a month can be considered a reward) day, I made delightful cookies (based on Lauren’s recipe not my execution of it) from which I ate a repulsive proportion of the dough. In fact Lauren texted me when she went to bed, which for a moment I figured we were both embarrassed about seeing as only a door separated us, but then I concluded she probably knew I was sitting on the couch scraping the bowl clean in spoonfuls.
And as if I could have my cherry-topped cake and eat it too, the “Helloooo” episode of Seinfeld was on (again) and is still as funny as every time. I hope I have some affordable method of watching Seinfeld from my little studio…
34 resumes sent, apartment found in one week, 5 more days as an inconvenience.