Day Fifty-Two: Chronicles of Moving: Part II

Within the past three days, I have been calling stranger after stranger, asking them if I can see their empty spaces they're charging money for people to live in. And everytime I call someone, I fear as the phone is ringing that they will be very, very odd. And up until yesterday (even with the previous searching I've done), I have made out very well and dealt with all generally friendly, nice, and accomodating people.

I emailed a woman about a Craigslist ad (which is always a risk, I know) about a well-priced apartment that sounded lovely -- cable was included, it allowed pets, and it had a communal patio for use with other tenants. I received an email back speaking in very professional tones ("let me show you this great unit!"), from a woman we'll call "Antonia", just for safety's sake, asking me to call her to set up a time. So yesterday, I called, hoping the phone would go to voicemail as it rang a third time, only to be answered by a gruff, upper-middle-aged woman. As I kindly stated who I was and how we had been communicating, I was met with a foreboding response: "Okay, well let me ask you a few questions". Her tone, it should be noted, was less than friendly. "Sure," I replied warily. "How old are you?," she demanded. "Twenty-four," I said confidently, and with a tone implying that I did not see how that pertained to the situation. She grilled me for another minute and a half, asking a variety of questions, some reasonable, some seemingly not. "Do you have any pets?," she asked with force. I answered with a steady no, but I was extremely curious as to why this was such a harshly asked question, as the ad said pets are welcome. My favorite question was regarding my employment. As I told I was, in fact, employed, and she asked me where, and I answered her again, she spat, "I've never heard of it." "Oh, well then it must not exist," I thought.

It seemed, despite my rudeness, that I had passed the test. She became more talkative, but only slightly more friendly, after concluding I sounded "great." I was less than impressed with her, of course. She rambled on stagnantly about what furniture was included (which was a nice surprise, since it wasn't in the listing), and mentioned hastily that it didn't have an oven, but an oven-like contraption with a name I cannot remember would be installed.

So me, who is considering baking for a living, is going to live in a place with no oven? I think not. I almost immediately hung up the phone, and thanked her for her waste of time. But some small part of me was too curious to pass it up. So I tentatively asked her for the exact address, so I could make sure I had adequate directions. She must have assumed she was the ultimate authority, because she refused, but instead gave me her own extremely detailed set of directions. So upon visiting this winner of a place this evening, I have no address, but know that it is in a gold stucco building. "You're really going to like it," she said. Sure.

So I am going to spend my Wednesday night walking around an apartment with a less-than-cheerful landlady, listening to her try to convince me that it's lack of an oven would be remedied before I moved in. It doesn't help that on top of this woman's poor first impression of both herself and her space, she asked me to bring a paystub, and if I wanted to sign tonight, I would need a $200 deposit that would cover part of my rent, or something (she actually kind of trailed off and never finished her sentence).

While I'm open to living in a lot of places, as long as the area is good, I will not make a sacrifice for a bad landlord. If I don't like you, I'm not renting for you -- the end. I am essentially hiring this woman to be available when my heat goes out or when my faucets leak, and I don't trust she's going to give a crap about me once I get in there if she has the audacity to demand I bring her a pay stub before she shows me the apartment. Needless to say, this has the potential to be a very interesting experience.

Day Twenty: Movin' On Up...

I have very recently embarked on a new leg of life -- I'm becoming a real renter. When I graduated college, I arrived home with a tightly packed sedan full of odds, ends, furniture bits, clothes, and shoes. I winced as I pondered the impossible physics that would be necessary to fit my massive accumulation of crap into a small, modest bedroom that was already amply furnished. So, I rented a storage unit. It was, and still is, my only experience with being a renter of any kind. I learned words like "pro-rate" and was given a tour of my where my tiny piece of real estate would be located. For the past year and a half, I've been dutifully paying $45.00 a month to house my random shit and keeping myself, my parents, and my "landlord" happy.

But now, I'm going to be actually renting real, honest property. I'll be paying a substantial amount of money to keep a roof over my head, heat in my person, and food in my stomach. It's a huge weight over my head and I'm frightened. What if I can't afford what I'm paying? So after about a week of deliberating with myself, my bank account, and other people, I've decided that now is as good a time as any. So today, I emailed my first landlord, asking to look at a place. I looked at an apartment once before, with three other girls in college, but we didn't have a clue what we were doing and it didn't feel nearly as serious as it should have been.

So luckily, all will go smoothly and easily, and I will schlep my crap from my trusty storage unit several towns over into a one-bedroom apartment that I can call my own. I'll save $45.00 a month, and a lot of money on gas, but I'll be spending $800 on something so much more important. And I'll have a new place to call home, which is a completely bizarre concept to me. I'm not sure I can fathom truly living somewhere that isn't home, and being able to call it home. But I guess it's something I'll get used to. In the meantime, I'll get some life experience in hunting down apartments, keep saving, and try my hardest to not freak out. And hopefully, I'll have a new place by the end of February. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.