[img]958|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — My S.O. and I are moving in together. We went apartment hunting for about two weeks and saw four places before we decided on the place we’ll call home for the next few years. The last time S.O. went apartment hunting was a year ago. I haven’t looked for a place to live for seven years. I was nervous, yet excited.
We searched online and saw a bunch of places that looked promising. I went to the first one by myself, an apartment that was advertised as a 3-bedroom with parking. The ad said it was huge and cheap. Well, they got that part right. What the ad didn’t say was that it wasn’t really a 3-bedroom—more like a 1- bedroom with an office and a dining room.
He Had a Limp While Shaking Hands
The whole visit was awkward. First of all, the listing agent had a limp handshake and didn’t wear his seatbelt on the drive over to the apartment. His small talked was fake and showy. “I’m from __________, which is a far cry from this town!” Good for you. Now learn how to shake hands and just show me this apartment.
It turned out that the occupants for the apartment would be at home during the showing because the couple had a newborn. Awkward! We walked in and saw the wife, the husband, the baby, and the grandparents. Double awkward! I felt like I was invading their space and that I couldn’t take my time.
Agent took me quickly through the master bedroom, which was big, and had an adjoining green-tiled bathroom from 1940. Across the hall was a “second bedroom,” which had a double bed crammed into it with space for nothing else. “Ah, the office,” I thought. We saw a second bathroom, also from 1940, the kind you might see in a rundown motel.
Next stop was the “updated” “eat-in” kitchen. The only thing I saw that was updated in that kitchen was the cart the tenants had bought because there was no counter space. There was a tiny room next to the kitchen, which I guessed was the “eat-in” part.
We saw the living room, with its fireplace and 4 occupants, and the dining room, complete with Grandpa. Agent told me that if you closed the French doors of the dining room, it could be a third bedroom. It didn’t look like Gramps slept on the dining room table that was in there.
We thanked the family and crept out. On the sidewalk, Agent asked me what I thought. I told him the “3rd bedroom” was a dining room. I thanked him for showing me, and told him I’d walk home. I felt hoodwinked, but determined to find a place that S.O. and I would like.
Next week, we see three more places and make a decision. Stay tuned.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at her new address, snobbyblog@gmail.com
