It's over. The apartment search has concluded and yes people it is possible to find a one bedroom that is nice, affordable, and not in a government housing project. I was growing horribly tired of the crapholes I was visiting. Many fit the shoebox size comparison, and a few were more like the shoebox the dead hamster was put in.
I almost went studio but didn't because I would never leave my bed. It would be this catch all for activity that should not be had in a bed. The day I no longer dine in my bed I will finally reach that potential my teachers spoke of.
Never will I trust the words of the newspaper. When reading a classified without a photo I started to give the benefit of the doubt to the owners. People who don't use a photo are frankly cheaper than ten cent Ramen they eat on Thanksgiving. The concept behind the garden apartment is a strange one. The garden is an ideal segue between mom's basement and an actual apartment. Personally, my decision came from realizing I have more head room in my Malibu.
Features are what get us to sign, right? Some of the less fortunate places were throwing anything but decency at me. My favorite line a realitor said was "it will look much better before you move in, so just keep that in mind." One of my concerns is that it is near an L stop. When asked about the nearest locale, the woman said "there is one really close to here. All you have to do is walk about two blocks east, grab a cab or the bus and take it a mile to Division." Everyone has their own definition of close I guess.
There was one place that was an old hotel. It was pretty sweet but at the same time the mystique of dirty politicians bootleg brandy is more than stale for my liking. The owner was walking around with some death scented stogie and he walked with the swager of one that knows the shit smell is coming from their own shoe. His kitchen rivaled the easy bake oven, the sink looked like an Alabama lawn ornament. In the bathroom, the color scheme was asylum white with grout black. The toilet was something out of the Alcatraz section of Pottery Barn. To top it off the place came with the Murphy's bed. You know the one that comes out of the wall. I sure think it was called a herpes bed with the general apperance of a spotted uncooked processed grey government meat.
I like my new place because it is well, in the city, near the L, and most of all the gas station will actually allow you to enter the building to pay for gas- I think. Incase you're looking to move here's my guide to staying out of the ghetto.
1. If there are more Currency Exchanges than Starbucks in a mile - no go
2. If you have to pay for gas by sliding the money in the drawer as the 1st generation employee shudders in fear - no go
3. If the nicest car on the block doesn't have THAT much rust - no go.