So it begins


The apartment search is slowly progressing. There’s promise out there, but lots of B.S. to scour through first. The good news: my friend Kopala found out that his girlfriend is going to grad school and can’t live with him for a couple years. So, I don’t have to worry any more about being home poor or living grimy. Better news: my other boy, Mike, decided not to renew a lease with his girl and asked if he could get a three-bedroom apartment with me and Kopala. We got the cash to get a raw place if that goes down, but he might get a one-bedroom by himself. Till we find out for sure, I’m looking two bedrooms all the way.
We saw two two-bedrooms since last weekend. The first place was great (pictured), but a little north of where we’d like to live. We’re trying for the Ukrainian Village, East Village, or River West areas, and this place was in Bucktown, about ten blocks north of the Ukrainian Village. The ceilings were high, windows were everywhere, and there was a fireplace, but it’s all about location ain’t it? I don’t know if I want to hike all the way down to my spots in the Ukraine. I mean I could cab it back and forth all day, I could even take a bus, but it’s not the same as being able to walk a couple blocks and get to everything. The landlord seemed cool enough—a yuppie dude from the burbs, and by the looks of the apt. he keeps things up to date. Some downers of the place: no deck or porch, the bedrooms were kind of small, and there was no laundry in the building.
The other apt. we saw was foul, straight from the gutter. This guy! The audacity of this MAN to price this apartment at $900, which is a reasonable price, but I’ve seen places like this for $700. On craiglist the apt. sounded fine: “1000 square feet, huge bedrooms, laundry on premise, full of light, new appliances, heat included.” We go there, he walks us in, he turns on the light and a huge puddle a water was chillin in the middle of the living room, a mouse scittered across the floor, the walls were scratched up, the “new appliances” in the kitchen were from the 80’s—plus it was a basement unit. I don’t want to sound high and mighty or anything, but come on, this dude should have told us what to expect when I set up the appointment. Maybe he didn’t want to scare us away, whatever, but he doesn’t need to be charging this much either, I asked him if he could be flexible about the price and he got a little upset. I didn’t like that. The guy has to man-up to the fact that this apt. isn’t all that and lower the price. What a cheap ass.
I can’t take crap from these dudes who think they’re raw because they own a couple properties. All I want is a landlord who can be real with me and be willing to hear criticisms—I’m down for whatever criticisms you can find about me, but you might want to slow up because if you start to criticize me you’re gonna be here for long time—I got too much wrong in me—maybe that’s why I need a raw apartment—it will bring me balance… perhaps.

Author My First Apartment

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