As many of you know, I have been searching for a new place to live since my recently new employment at the University of Dubuque. Now, I'd ordinarily probably keep my little Belmont apartment, but with the crazy hours and days that I work, I'm getting rather sick of driving back and forth in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how much deer and raccoon carnage there is going on during this season? Gross.
So, I've been pretty diligent in the last two or three weeks to put myself out there and truly search. I had been "searching" before that, but not very hard or for very long at a time...I can't say it's my favorite thing to do. And in the last few weeks, I have probably seen the best and the worst of what this ridiculous town has to offer. I have seen the downtown, the uptown, the west side, historic districts, the Point district, the Grandview district, college neighborhoods, and slums. I have seen one bedrooms, two bedrooms, a three bedroom, a warehouse, a studio, old houses, apartment complexes, duplexes, tri-plexes, four-plexes, and even a penthouse. I've talked with rehab project enthusiasts, general managers, kind old women, and a few jerks. And, I am sad to report, my thirst for a decent home has still not been quenched...not even close.
Well, I was close...twice. Once I was down on Main and witnessed my dream apartment being snatched out from underneath me as I was second in line for a lease, and once on South Grandview with the same outcome, only perhaps the place was a little less dreamy.
Oh, the stories I have for you my friends...
The first big shocker was seeing the warehouse. This place was not advertised. I just happened to call someone who had an availability down in the warehouse district...the up and coming sweet spot for the young professionals in the area (scoff). It was going for $550 a month and it was huge, 3000 square feet. I was impressed and perhaps a little delusional, so I asked to see it without asking any other questions.
We stood outside the place, in the agreed upon location for probably fifteen minutes or so before Handy Andy stepped out and asked if we needed any help. Nice. He graciously offered to show us the apartment. We went up some stairs to the second floor and he rolled open the big freight door. Wow, just like the movies... Inside we found a huge expanse of a room...the floors were warehouse floors, the walls, warehouse walls, the windows, old and rickety windows, just like a warehouse would have. Holy crap, this is a warehouse... The "kitchen," and we'll use that term lightly, was an olive green refrigerator with dents in the front and a basin sink that may or may not have actually been hooked up to running water. No stove, no oven, no cabinets, no counters... The "bathroom," an equally lose term, did indeed have three and a half walls around it. No door. A toilet, also olive green in color, and a tub. Both looked, much like the fridge, like they had been recovered from a landfill somewhere. Oh, did I mention there was no sink in there? The bedroom, and by this time, I was surprised to see an actually bedroom, consisted of three and a half walls, propped together, constructed out of plywood. No door, no windows. Only half of the apartment was heated, and I don't recollect any outlets per say...or lights? Maybe. I was a bit overwhelmed, creeped out, and disgusted that I had wasted my time. It was fantastic.
We, oh, and when I say we, I do mean me and Mom, who was with me for part of the excitement last week...looked at a place that we were convinced was a whore house. I'm still pretty sure it could have been. The owner was this really old lady who referred to all of her tenants as "girls." All the cars in the garage stalls were nice, new, and clean. And the building looked remarkably kept up on the outside. I've probably seen too many bad Lifetime movies about brothels in my day... The place was itty bitty, but from now until forever, regardless of its actual status, it will always been known as the whore house to me.
And of course, one of my biggest battles was with a lady I have been calling "Crabby Kathy." They own probably a million places around town, and all of their signs say, "Pets OK!" and a phone number. No company, no last name, always just Kathy on the phone. I called her sometime last week inquiring about some places. At first she didn't answer. Then she called me back, only to hang up on me half way through to talk with the Claims Court, and never call me back. I talked with her a few days later to try to set up an appointment and she said it would take a few days to get organized, that I should call back on Monday. I didn't. And on Tuesday, I didn't. On Wednesday this week, she actually called me, I was pretty amazed, only to ask me to call back on Friday morning to set up the official time and place that we would meet. Sure, it's not like I don't have a full-time job or anything, I can just come and go as I please...sheesh! So, this morning I call and left a message asking if I could see places at 9:00. She didn't call back until 10:00 and couldn't meet then, but she would call me. I requested not to call between 3:00 and 4:00 as I'd be in meetings. At 3:17 my phone rings. Nice. By now, I was actually done with my meetings, but I was pretty steaming mad. But Crabby Kathy said she'd have time "right now" to show me the places I was interested in. Sure, so I jump in my car and fly down Grandview...only to stand on the curb for nearly twenty five minutes. Really nice. And the best part? Crabby Kathy didn't get out of the car! Mr. Crabby Kathy, who never introduced himself, just got out of the Escalade (clearly making some good money in this business), and walked to the door, opened it, and then looked at me until I walked up to him. Seriously?
Needless to say, I still have no idea what I'm going to do about a place to live. And I'm pretty crabby myself in trying to sift through it all. Sigh. I'm this close (can't you see me in my flaily story style showing you my two fingers very close together?) to giving up completely and dealing with the drive until I calm down. And I'm even closer to just buying a house of my own (if only I had some credit!).
If anyone out there has any suggestions, now would be a really good time to share them...because clearly I am about the unluckiest person when it comes to hunting for a home. I could really use some help. Sigh...again. I cannot wait for this all to be over.
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