Sunday, May 11, 2008

Fabu - fucking - lous!

I'm no longer a reject of society destined to live in my parents' basement until I'm well into my 30s because...........I found an apartment!
When I first set out to find one, I'm not so sure why I thought it was going to be so easy because, I mean, c'mon, we are working with, well, me, here, so the odds of me being easygoing when finding a place that I must live in a.) by myself b.) with Andy c.) for at least a year and d.) has to be completely perfect and fabulous in every way, are absolutely impossible.
Back in April, I had it narrowed down to three places, each of the complex's pros and cons mapped out on little pieces of paper, agonizing over things such as whether to sacrafice less square footage for a washer and dryer in unit or deciding if vaulted ceilings were fabulous or just extra high places for cobwebs and bugs to hide where I couldn't reach them to annihilate their asses.
Then, when it came down to it, the scarce availability and the location of the apartments that were available within the complex were my downfall. Damn shitastic economy! Forcing would be homeowners to rent and steal the only option I have, which is to rent. Bastards.
Anyway, I'm also horrendously picky, but hell, if I have to live by myself, I do not want to worry that the axe murderer is going to break into the sliding glass door of my ground floor apartment every night. (a.k.a. nix the groundfloor apartments pretty much altogether - sliding glass door or not) Also, a girl has got to live near the clubhouse - pool, mailroom, "wah, wah, wah my blank doesn't work" bitching arena - you know, the important stuff. When my entourage comes to pick me up, I want to be able to look out the window or front door and see them arriving. And, if the the drive to the bars is more than 5 minutes - you can forget it.
Needless to say, the three places I had picked out went out the window partially due to my spoiled bitchiness. However, I decided to venture out of my narrow perimeters a few weeks ago and discovered a little place behind my gym. It was a little further away from the fun - perhaps a three minute drives' worth, yet three minutes I will not be with my friends while I drive - and not exactly what I was looking for, but the amenities were better than any I had seen, as well as the rent and the availabilty. Late last week I took my mom to see this place that I was almost certainly going to sign a lease with and she thought it would suffice - sort of the same feeling I had. And, as we pulled out of parking lot determining that I would fax my application over first thing in the morning, my mom said, "turn left, what's down here," asking me to explore the neighborhood rather than going straight home. Suddenly, a shining beam of light came down from the sky and landed upon a lovely complex full of little white buildings with blue shutters. "These look expensive," mom said.
As we drove past, I noticed the sign and remembered seeing it in an online search, but dismissing it because it was out of my strict apartment hunting location range. Now that I had branched out, we decided to check it out. After we left the little one bedroom with washer and dryer, vaulted ceilings, walk-in closet (must, must, must), lots of storage and added bonus - a garage - my mom said, "I want to live there!"
Hell no, mom, this place is mine. I snagged a little "Andy friendly" second floor place right by pool for under $650 a month and I can move in June 13. It was just meant to be and I'm pissing my pants with glee. Now it's just a matter of finding some poor suckers to help me move in the middle of June in Kansas. At least the pool is right there.
On top of all this apartment excitement, I also have a date on Tuesday. Yes, me, a date, with a real live boy. A nice boy as far as I can tell too. I met him at our usual Thursday night outing to the casino for salsa then danced with him all night at the VooDoo Lounge in another casino Saturday night for my friend Becca's birthday. And, get this, for our date, we're going to a salsa lesson in Westport, then out for burgers and beers. Hmmm, sounds like my kind of guy. Things seem as though they're starting to look up for my living-with-my-parents-as-an-adult spinster ass.

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