My online presence has been scarce lately, and I apologize. I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath to see when I would ever post again, but fret not for here I am.
My mom arrived three Wednesdays ago for an extended visit, and I just took her back to the airport yesterday. While at the airport, I hopped on my own plane for three days of apartment shopping in California. My mom’s visit taught me something about myself that I didn’t fully realize, which is weird because I kinda thought I had my shit figured out. Alas, I was wrong. It turns out that I need alone time. Like, real alone time.
I love my mom, and I didn’t really know her until I was full-on adulting. It was great having her for such a long visit because I missed out on an entire childhood of getting to know her. But it turns out I can’t take a decent shit if I can’t guarantee someone isn’t going to walk into my space while I’m doing it. I also lose all motivation to write when I have no time to contemplate topics. Apparently, time, in this case, is more specifically alone time. I did not know this about myself. Looking back on the last two years of my life at this house, I realized that I have always had a sanctuary of alone in my basement. Oh, I’m done dealing with people for the day? Retreat to the basement and selectively answer text messages! And although my mom literally couldn’t be a more respectful roommate, just having someone there all the time threw off my mojo. Would I change anything about her visit? Fuck no. It was long, it was frustrating at times because I didn’t know how to tell her these things, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t fully evacuated my bowels in 13 days. But I got to spend two weeks with my loving mother doing literally nothing and whatever we wanted.
And now, I’m at a hotel waiting for the BF to finish at work so we can start apartment shopping.
Something I did manage to accomplish while my mom was in town was the initial apartment search. I found over 80 potential places to live. What the fuck do you even do with a list that long? Someone less organized or less bored may have just started visiting places and winged it. However, I am both organized and bored so I made a huge fucking spreadsheet to compare location/size/monthly cost/upfront costs/miscellaneous notes. And then the filters were added. And then there were ten finalists.
AND THEN one of those ten made my short list even shorter during my phone call to set up a showing. This wench went on and on for almost a full 13 minutes, repeating the amenities and that she lives on site and that she loves it and it’s a fucking dream come true. I kept telling her Yes, I’m aware of the amenities, that’s why you’re on the shortlist. Yes, that’s why I want to come see the property. Yes, all that. Please stop talking and set my appointment.
AND THEN the wench finally sets my appointment and concludes the conversation with the following statement: None of our apartments come furnished with a refrigerator.
Ok, I get not having a washer/dryer in a unit because that’s something of a luxury to have in-house, and most complexes have laundry facilities on-site anyway. But a fucking fridge? That seems to me like a basic necessity in a living environment, especially one you’re paying close to $2k/month to inhabit. I didn’t bother to ask if there was a community kitchen with a master fridge, I just hung up.
The next three days will be spent dealing with saleswenches just like that one, and while I am confident in our efforts and excited to find a place to live, I am not looking forward to dealing with people. By the end of the weekend, however, I hope to have a solid timeline for my much-anticipated relocation, and that will make it totally worth.