Apartment Hunting

Ugh. Just looking at those two little words bring a wave of nausea. I hate moving. I really do. I think it's because I don't like facing the junk hole that is my house. But on the other hand, something inside me craves for a change...even if that change means a commute that is only 1 mile closer to work. So starts the crazed search for a new nesting place.

When I get an idea in my head, it's all I can think about. I spend hours online on several different search engines trying to find the perfect apartment that will just fit our measly budget. Amenities requested: washer/dryer in unit, patio for smuggled-in dog, first floor so I don't break my back carrying in groceries from TJs, preferably with central air (though not necessary). You'd be surprised how few and far between these apartments are, at least without having to sell my extra kidney to pay the rent.

The last few times I had looked for apartments, I religiously used one search engine that promised $100 rewards if I leased one of their beautiful apartments. I mapped out on Google maps where every apartment was and dedicated a single page to each location to take meticulous notes. Two weeks before, I would call each and every leasing agent to make sure they knew when we were coming.

I didn't do that this time. On a whim, I told my husband, "We're going hunting. Apartment hunting." He was so sick of this junk hole, too, that he quickly agreed. We drove down to the apartment complex about half a mile down the road, only to find out that none of their apartments have washer/dryer hookups. NOPE check that off the list. Too bad, since the leasing agent was actually pretty nice.

By the time we finished with failure number one, Future Mrs. B was ready to join in our hunt. All three of us waltzed into the next location with high hopes: a nice two bedroom for me and the hubz and a nearby one bedroom for the soon to be newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. B. We made pleasantries with the leasing agent (or should I say boy 3 years our younger with too much gel in his hair and fake work laugh). He congratulated Mrs. B on her wedding while I held her hand and replied, "Thanks" (even though Hubz and Gel boy didn't understand nor appreciated my joke). He proceeded to show us overpriced apartments with underwhelming square footage. NOPE check that off the list. He didn't even ask us for our information when we sat down: looks like he lost that lead.

Next up we met Sally* (name changed for her protection). Now, Sally was the most helpful leasing agent I have ever met in my entire life. You see, I used to work in sales. I know the consultative sales process backwards and forwards and Sally had all the steps down to a T. Even when she realized that we may very well not be able to live in her apartments, she told us about 3 other locations that might better suit our needs. I wanted to hug her.

After leaving the effin Taj Mahal of beautiful apartments, Mrs. B and I decided to show Hubz some of the more affordable townhomes on the...other side of town. And boy was it on the other side of the town. Gone were the winding walkways and Target within walking distance. Replace those with a busy 4 lane street and/or a public zoo. Yes. A zoo (which sounds neat until you actually get there). After we were forced to leave one location due to the leasing office being completely closed (and after driving through the full renovations that were happening), we went on to the next failure.

We should have saw the red-flags as they were happening: 1) we had to stand around for 10 minutes while the entire staff finished up an hour and a half long meeting, 2) when they finally did open the doors, they didn't pull up an extra chair for Hubz (so he spent the entire awkward 10 minutes while she scrutinized our IDs hovering around), 3) we had to talk over the power washer and nearly got sprayed by them, 4) the 2 bed 1.5 bath boasted an area where you and the hubz can poo at the SAME TIME in the SAME ROOM, 5) the upstairs closet was already 4 feet off the ground, and 6) the "manager" got miffed that we weren't filling out applications (chyeah right) and yelled at me when I asked about their 'look and lease' special. Even though I did like their huge dirt patios and low rental prices, Future Mrs. B and Hubz said NO.

By this point, I was pretty disheartened. Looking at all the pretty model homes with all the furniture just so made me come home to my junk hole and go, "Ugh-ew." I started to think about what was really important. Location? Our favorite apartment was a mile down the road. Bedrooms? The second bedroom would be kind of small for the computer and TV--and also what would I do with the living room?

Then I got a crazy idea. What if we stayed in this junk hole and made it into a model apartment! Yeah! Hey, moving costs like...$300, right? We'd be saving around $200 in rent since all the apartments were gastronomically more than what we're paying now. We'd have to buy new furniture anyway if we were moving. Why not just cut our losses and invest in some nice pieces! Hallelujah by George I think I've got it!

Now all I need is for Mrs. B to help me clear the junk out. It's okay. She's great that. Right Mrs. B?