House Hunting Continues
August 19, 2007
We’re back at JR and Ashley’s house, taking a break between (possibly) visiting another property. Apartment hunting here is a frustrating exercise, but not in the ways I was expecting. When I read accounts of looking for living quarters, my mind was filled with visions of settling for the first place that didn’t horrify you and desperately throwing yourself at the mercy of the landlord, praying they would have mercy on your poor, renting soul and allow you to pay them thousands of dollars a month.
In reality, it is just harder to find a place that you feel comfortable putting that kind of cash into. Every property has something wrong with it. Apartment A is in a great neighborhood, but it feels like a maze inside, the “backyard” smells like dog piss and is mostly concrete, and the kitchen is laid out in such a way that you feel like you would go batshit crazy trying to cook your first breakfast. Apartment B is clean, spacious and has beautiful natural light, but it’s in a neighborhood that feels like it was built by the Stepford wives. Apartment C is mind-destroyingly charming, with great details in the hardwood flooring, natural light out the wazoo, and laundry, but you have to park on a 25% grade and the owner is twitchy, socially awkward and obsessive compulsive.
Apartment D looks perfect on paper: located in Noe Valley, within walking distance from our only friends in the city, garage parking, laundry in the building, owner is OK with our dog, shared backyard. But… but…. (there is always one of these) we can’t see inside it until Tuesday, at which point it will be our only choice, as the other properties will most likely have been rented. It may not be too late to make an offer on one of the others, but you never know. We will, however, not have any competition, as the owners know JR and Ashley and are giving us first choice.
So, we may just go to Golden Gate Park and listen to house music in lieu of searching for more living quarters today.
Right now I think I might go outside and drink a beer and smoke a cigar to take some of the edge off. I just want a place to live. Oh, and I don’t want to hate it.
Posted at 4:18 pm.
Here’s what I do. First I take a microwave-safe casserole dish from the sink (kept there since its last use) and line the bottom with napkins to protect the two H-E-B ‘Ready-to-Serve’ chicken thighs I’m about to nuke. After eating, I put the bones and other remains inside a freezer-safe, zip-lock bag and put it inside the freezer because I know that I won’t take the trash out for months. This keeps my place fly free. I hope this helps.