It's about that time again, kids! This Square is looking for some new digs. Since Geo locked this (*Points seductively at my pink fleece sweatshirt, modge-podge stained pants and children-sized moccasins*) down, I have decided to get a new place for the next year. As much as I love living with Claire and Andrew, I miss my own dishes and talking to myself without judgment.
So I've been looking for spacious one bedroom with a jacuzzi tub, pool, utilities paid, in a nice neighborhood, with a waterfall and doorman in the lobby, and covered parking. Oh, and it should be super cheap. Shouldn't be too hard, right?
Surprisingly, my options are limited.
My mom has almost no faith in me. In her defense, I have a pretty terrible track record with apartment hunting. She helpfully reminded me of the time I wanted an apartment in a diverse neighborhood. It was all good until I found an apartment I thought I liked and saw a woman pushing a stroller out of it. I sneered "Ugh, a BABY!? I'm not living in a place with KIDS."
Anyhoozle, I found one today that was obvs too good to be true. Super cheap, utilities paid, in a nice-ish neighborhood. I emailed the poster and was all "Is it still available? What is wrong with the place?" I got an email back this morning from the girl regaling me with promises of 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, washer/dryer in unit, central air, and almost 1500 square feet.
Where do I sign?!
Then it got weird. The owner lives in the U.K. She's the only one with keys and doesn't know anyone in the United States who could show me the place, so I can only see it once I sign the lease agreement and get the keys. And payments involve "shipping".
Suddenly, I had serious images of mail-order bride type stuff. Hidden cameras. Unannounced visitors from the U.K. Trips to the bank to convert my money to Euros or whatever. Inaccurate measurements due to the whole metric system thing.
It sounds amazing and I was almost convinced that it's the place for me. But, alas, my parents didn't raise no dummy. I learned my lesson looking for apartments for years that when they are super nice and cheap, there is something wrong. In this case, it is a possibly sketchy, possibly not-female, possibly amateur spy landlord keeping me from my dream pad. In a way, though, I'm glad she emailed instead of calling because I'm a sucker for a British accent. I would have agreed to trade the apartment for a baby. Not mine, obvs...just A baby.
Anyhoozle, the search will continue. Do you guys know any cheap, gorgeous, luxurious apartment I can live in starting in June? Oh, and if the landlord lives in the U.K., it better be Adele.