The latest apartment building to which I’ve applied was actually NOT going to approve me based on the the fact that I have holds on three other apartments in the city. They’re like, why the hell would we want you if you’re spreading that income over that many places?

(Do the math — I can’t afford ONE place, let alone four!)

They just need to call the idiots in charge of my current abode, and then I’ll be approved.

But good to know that they can SEE what you’ve done so far. Damn it. I hate that shit — I hate that I have to explain why I took Place B and Place M and Place Q but that I REALLY want Place C.

One wonders whether all these fucking hurdles are meant to make me want the places more, or whether it’s a sign to keep looking. I’m so goddamned tired of this process, the drama, the aggravation, the insanity, the sleepless nights.

I think I love the place I’m going to take. (Note that “think.”) It’s in a high-rise with a security entrance. And as I am special and need protection, it’s perfect for me. Moving day might be a real bitch, but then again, so am I!

One Lonely Response to Uh

  1. Caterwauling :

    […] When I was applying at the latest place, the guy wasn’t the slightest bit nice to me till he saw my pay stubs. Whereupon he said a snotty, “Well, I wish I made THIS kind of money.” Which, disclaimer: In D.C., it doesn’t go far, but whatever. Take that salary to Pittsburgh and I’d have a loft on the North Shore or a freaking HOUSE in Bethel Park, but OK. Classy. […]