Monday, March 09, 2009

A new place of my own

My dad is cute.

When it came out that I was in the market for a new apartment, he was curious about where I wanted to live.

I say that same thing to everyone - it would be stupid to me to be paying more in rent and maintaining the same 25-35 minute commute. I would look for an apartment closer to work.

There are quite a few apartment complexes within a mile or two of my office.

"You shouldn't look there," Dad said, naming the crossroads. "They aren't safe. There are murders."

(If there were actually murders a block from my workplace, I think I might have heard about them. I'm just sayin'...)

My father has never given two shits about where I've chosen to live.

So, because my dad voiced an opinion, my apartment search has been contaminated by a healthy case of paranoia. Will Dad approve? Will the handyman find me dead in the parking lot? These are the important questions I asked myself while spending hours scanning my options on Craig's List and and findaplacewhereyouwon'

I carried around a ratty stack of possibilities for a few weeks. Too busy to spend an afternoon looking at apartments. Too keyed up to push aside my search until I had time to go on tours.

I thought I'd found a winner. A small complex. Reasonably priced - but at the upper end of my budget (or so I thought). What seemed like a decent location, though one I was somewhat unfamiliar with. I dragged Dad along. I need a second opinion. And he needed to know that his eldest daughter would not be cohabitating with baby killers and drug dealers.

Imagine my surprise when my dear ol' dad approved. We drove separately - I had to go straight to my hockey game. Dad called me a few minutes after I left. "I'm just driving around here," he tells me. "It's a great location. You'll be happy there. And it will take you less than 10 minutes to get to work."

It's nice to have someone's blessing.

And I do think I'll be happy there. It isn't where I live now - walking distance to downtown and its fabulous nightlife - but its a pretty solid place for me. Centrally located. Clean. Bright. A new stove. Storage for my stink-ass hockey bag. 10 minutes to Lucy and Chet's house. And $50/month cheaper than I had seen it advertised for.

I went there after class today and signed all of the paperwork.

Am I jinxing myself by telling you kids about this apartment before I pass the credit report?

Although. If I don't pass the credit report, I have problems a lot larger than my housing situation.


Shelley said...

I'd kill to have your father (not literally, of course).

My parents are complicating the overly complicated task of me finding an apartment in DC. It's ridiculous.

Congrats on finding a place!

my life is brilliant said...

Congratulations! And, score!

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