House-Struck, At Last

For the past few weeks, as I mentioned in my last post, I have been looking for a place to live. But I am not simply looking for a place to lay my head, I am looking for a place that feels like home. A place that I can be proud of; a place I can invite my friends to without having to apologize. I’m a sucker for hard wood floors, which I’ve yet to have in any place I lived in, and I have an equivalent weakness for porches and decks. More than any of that superficial stuff, however, I want to find the right people.

The other night while I was at work, a customer overheard me mentioning to a friend that I was looking for a place to live, and he mentioned that he and his roommates were looking for a roommate. I had my computer right there, so he directed me to their ad, which I’d looked at a few times but not responded to because I was looking for something a little closer to the T. I was scheduled to look at a place that proclaimed to have a “built-in loft bed,” which I also find rather fantastic–but, upon visiting the loft-bed place I found that their definition of “loft bed” was a two-foot high plywood structure nailed to the wall, not the overhead, only-reached-by-ladder version I had in my mind. So I was predictably disappointed. I emailed the contact for the place that the customer, Phil, had mentioned, and I started to get a gut feeling that this was where I belonged.

I made several appointments to see other places, one of which I’ve seen. It was not nearly as disappointing as the loft-bed place, but it was small and lacking in personality. Tonight, I went to see Phil’s place, and when I walked in the door, I was immediately house-struck. It has beautiful hard wood floors, two large porches, a basement, a back yard, and most importantly, three very interesting and cool roommates, all of whom I feel like I’d get along with. When I left the apartment, several hours and three beers after I’d arrived, I had a giddy feeling of anticipation which told me, If I don’t get this place, I’ll be devastated. My gut was right, after all.

I even took an experimental sock-footed slide (Risky Business-style) across the kitchen floor, and I got a good five or six feet of slide. Not too shabby.

They told me that they’re showing the apartment this weekend, and that they should know after that and they’d be in touch, so I suppose I’ll just have to cross my fingers and wait– but I’m the daughter of the most impatient man on the planet, and I hate waiting. I want to know, because in three days, I could move myself into that house in my mind, and it would be truly disappointing to have to start the process all over again, knowing that the perfect place had already been found.

**David, Phil and Michael: If you’re reading this, NO, I am not sucking up. You practically dared me to write this post. So I wrote it.

~ by saltgirlspeaks on 15 June, 2007.

One Response to “House-Struck, At Last”

  1. catching up.

    1) you are not the only one to have either nothing or something(s) ridiculous happen to you, i.e., being bitten by a bat. i am that person, too, i.e., i don’t trip in the dark—i fall off mountains.

    2) i am very sorry about your father. and because i know and love you so well i am going to set the record strait: you are more than enough even if you are all one has in life. even if you don’t drive a car and live an hour away. i know this because i live across the conitinent.

    2a) stop drinking so fucking much.

    3) if you move into this place, i’m flying to boston to live under your bed.

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