Thoughts from the edge, redux

So I’ve been in full “So move her out, already” (from “About Last Night,” for fellow Brat Pack junkies) mode.

Everyone keeps asking, “When are you moving? Where are you moving? Why haven’t you visited any places? Why haven’t you CALLED any places?”

I’ll tell you why. Because you need MONEY to put down to catch an available space in a place you like. And I? Have $18 to my name till Wednesday AND I’m behind by two car payments. Keep asking me in that disappointed-in-me tone why I haven’t bothered. I’m a bit TOUCHY about that subject right now, here at T-minus two months.

ANYWAY, I got motivated by scaring the shit out of my neighbors by THROWING SHIT off the balcony. (It’s quite satisfying, seeing shit crash to the ground. Try it sometime.) (And yes, I dragged it to the dumpster. I just didn’t want to carry it down two flights of stairs.) So I sat in my car and called a dozen apartment complexes in my targeted neighborhood.

And may I just say that people are assholes. Seriously. I am calling based on looking at YOUR AD, and I am interested based on the amenities and prices YOU ADVERTISED. And you tell me, “Oh, that special is over”?!?! It’s a current ad, noodle nutted son of bitch.  My crystal ball failed to tell me that your March advertised specials aren’t good in, oh, MARCH.


I have an appointment tomorrow. And where money comes back to haunt me, after a half-hour on the phone with these clowns (nicer ones than the aforementioned, but sales monkeys nonetheless) I am told, “Bring money because we can’t hold properties for you.”


I should have known better than to say, “OK!” But my theory on money is this: When you’ve got a pile-o-cashish burning a hole in your pocket (let’s dream for a minute here), you go shopping and you can’t find anything. But when you’re broke and you go window-shopping, that’s suddenly when everything looks good.

So, if I see something I like, great. I can go back. If I don’t like it, enh, at least I broke the moving-odyssey cherry.

I’ve been working with an apartment locator service. And by working, I mean I’ve gotten one property in a week and suddenly today, when I got annoyed at the many follow-up calls/e-mails asking if I had contacted that single property and said I was looking forward to hearing about more places, I finally got more. But maybe I was unclear in my price requirements on the phone, because I am unimpressed to date.

Of course, I’m just unimpressed in general that properties in the suburbs cost so damn much.

My current complex offered to pay my moving costs up to a certain point if I sign up for one of our newly remodeled units. Like, it would cost me NOTHING to move, and I’d get a discount off “movin’ on up,” so to speak. It would actually, probably be more cost-efficient to stay in the ‘hood, believe it or not.

And I’m thinking about it. But I also know I’m in dire need of a change of scenery and I’d like my commuting time back. If only driving could be counted as physical activity — gym rats are getting buff and burning calories while I’m snarfing down the Fast Food of the Day and yelling at people who celebrate No-Turn-Signal-Monday (or Tuesday, Friday and everything in between).

Alas, though, if I can just digest the exorbitant pet deposits/pet rents/application fees/security deposits (but NOT move-in fees. Seriously, that’s highway robbery. What’s the fee for? Are you going to help me move my shit? Then fuck off), I think moving to the ‘burbs is the right decision for me at this juncture in my life.

Although, after cheating on my manicurist last week (i.e., going to someone different) and regretting it greatly, I’ll drive back every two weeks without complaint for the TLC to which I’ve become accustomed in my city!

One Lonely Response to Thoughts from the edge, redux

  1. sonderweg :

    Honey, I hear you on the “I-have-a-job-but-i’m-broke-as-fuck.”