"wherever he laid his hat was his home"

There were seemingly hours today spent looking at apartments, waiting outside of them for people to show them to us, calling these same people about them in the first place, or in the second place calling them to ask them why they weren't at the apartment they were showing to us half an hour after agreed upon showing time, or in the third place asking them why they were not there an hour after agreed upon showing time. The apartments that we looked at were all close in price range but ranged wildly in terms of quality and within terms of places I might actually want to live in, in which I would ever feel comfortable having anyone come visit me in, and ones in which I could not imagine even walking barefoot on the floor.

The first apartment we looked at was off the Jefferson stop and was really cute, was kind of what Jacob and I were dreaming about. We were ready to take it but wanted to look at other ones first. The second one we were supposed to look at turned into the third one we looked at because that was the one in which the guy, Joey, was an hour late in meeting us. The second one we looked at had no appliances, no floors, had just recently been gutted, and was very hard to imagine what it might actually look like and also had me trying to imagine why the guy was even trying to rent it out at this point. Then it was off to the terrible one in which we waited so long to see. The guy said he used to rent it out by the week and it looked like that type of place, the scary place where a holed up drug addict might live. It was quite terrifying. At this point, we called the first apartment to tell them we were ready to sign but that we just were going to check out one more apartment first.

This apartment turned out to be a dream. It is right off the Montrose stop. It has old, gorgeous hardwood floors. There are bookshelves in the fireplace. There is so much sun. It is big. It has a fire escape. It is on a cute block. There was also a French bulldog in the apartment. Jacob and I have been planning on trying to get a Frenchie once we moved and so this, this cute little dog, was a sign to the both of us that this was the apartment for us, this just aside from how much we loved it, running from place to place telling each other to look at this or at that. We kept on mouthing at each other how much we loved the apartment. There was another girl looking at the apartment at the same time which was kind of awkward and which became even more awkward once we told the realtor that we wanted it. He put us in his minivan and started asking us all sorts of questions about our credit and salaries and past apartments. He was Hasidic and very intense and slightly scary and I confessed that I had terrible credit but that it shouldn't be a problem cause I made decent money. He drove us to his offices near the Williamsburg Bridge and it was slightly weird and also reminded me of the things I like about New York, being in this office of Hasidic realtors all talking amongst themselves in a language we didn't understand and meanwhile the two of us scared shitless that we might not get this apartment that we fell in love with at first sight and had no doubts about.

I have to fax him all sorts of papers and documents tomorrow that I am not that excited about and he will soon make a judgement about our fate, whether despite our non-stellar credit we can live in this amazing apartment. I have my fingers crossed that this will all work out, otherwise we will have to continue this annoying search, at which point it will become even more frantic since I have to be out of this apartment by the end of this month. I have never desired to live in an apartment so much as this one. There is something about it that I think is meant for me. It's not new, a little derelict, has a tiny gross bathroom, but there are touches to it that absolutely sing to me. I want it so fucking bad and I really, really hope that this all works out. Tonight is my last night of normal sleep for the next five days as I'll be working the overnights this week, and that is more reason why I hope everything is done now, because otherwise I will have to spend my days, when I should be sleeping, looking at places, and going totally crazy. The Temptations "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," is playing on Pandora now as I finish typing this and there are a few lines in the song about home and it seems appropriate. Music is like that, songs always coming on with some relevance to your current thoughts, current situations, somehow.