So as I mentioned in a previous post, Boyfriend and I have begun hunting for an apartment. The process is GRUELING. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I kind of thought we'd have lots of choices, and the tough part would be finding one that was good enough for us.
Turns out the real problem is finding ANYTHING, let alone something good enough.
We have a specific town in mind (Beverly, MA) and we know we want a two bedroom and we'd like it to have parking, a washer and dryer on premises, hardwood floors, and a dishwasher. Maybe we're too needy, I don't know. I do know that if I was renting an apartment, I would make sure it had all those things.
We found one place and we went to check it out last week. It had plenty of space, and all the amenities we were looking for. It needed a little cosmetic help, but nothing some Benjamin Moore and elbow grease couldn't fix! It was the first place we saw so we took the application and went to think about it over dinner.
It had a huge kitchen and a huge bedroom. I had them both mentally decorated before we even left the premises. My Martha Stewart kitchen suite was going to look awesome. I had also already planned out the dressing nook I was going to create in the bedroom. Boyfriend was promised a man cave. I had an office space. The bathroom was itty bitty, but really, you don't need THAT much space in a bathroom.
We decided to apply and called Bob, the landlord, to tell him we'd be dropping the application off that night. "Sounds good, dear!" he told me. WE'RE IN, I thought, HE CALLED ME "DEAR". Never mind that he'd told us about a bajillion people had looked at the place in the two days since it had been listed on Craigslist, and about a bajillion more were still looking at it after us. According to Bob, anyway. I never believe people when they go all used-car salesman on me - "This deal is only good for today!!" Liar.
So I filled out the application and we dropped it in the mailbox. Boyfriend told me there was already another application in there. I told him to steal it and rip it up, but he wouldn't. PARTY POOPER. This was last Thursday. I didn't hear from Bob all weekend. Monday I asked The Council (aka, the girls at work) if they thought I should follow up. They answered with a resounding yes. (Our job, essentially, is to follow up with people. We are a bunch that loves following up.)
I also found two more apartments to look at and made appointments, just to be safe. Even though I really wanted Bob's place.
Tuesday I called Bob in the early afternoon. No answer. I called again on my way home from work. No answer. I didn't leave messages, since I wanted to talk to Bob myself and find out what the deal was. We went to look at another apartment. I called Bob again, like a crazy stalker. This time I left a message and asked him to get back to me. I still haven't heard back. I'm sure the apartment is gone already. DEVASTATION. Friggin' Bob. Especially since the next two apartments we looked at were total busts (see Part 2, coming soon!).
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