Here’s further proof that if I just lay off the stressing out and freaking and thinking the worst is the worst and it will be horrible, the universe will take care of me.
Tonight, Isobel and I went to look at a bachelor apartment (that’s NO bedrooms) for $925. That’s 450 square feet for $925. We considered it and would’ve taken it if another man wasn’t already sitting there, wanting it. I would have paid $55 more a month than now to have two thirds the space. And no room for Isobel to sleep in. Meaning, she might never sleep again.
I was willing to do that and was polite and fabulously positive about the shit brown walls and the view (of the highrise across the street) because I was FingTFO that we weren’t going to find a place. That maybe, we’d be lucky and get some sketchy basement in, ugh, East Van.
And then creepy nice, but had the look of a pedophile, dude got the apartment. Phew. Cuz it made me go, “Wait. I said that no matter what, we’d rock it, and we will. It will work out. It might not be ideal, or a great location, but we could commute to downtown as if we lived down here.” And all other sorts of possibilities of the positive realm came to my mind.
And then I got home and saw the ad. And the ad had both telephone numbers and an email address. And it was in the perfectest area of the suburbs, with brand new appliances (can you say insuite washer and dryer and I think dishwasher? Gah!), rent only $30 more than I pay now, with an extra bedroom and a walk-in closet.
I called the number and got voicemail. Being the phone-o-phobe I am, I emailed instead of leaving a message, but the dude had call display and called me back shortly thereafter. We chatted, he told me more about the suite, like that the house is only two years old; I said I had a two year old and didn’t wanna commute but was prepared to sign a lease if everything was kosher.
He’s going to email me tonight. We’re going to meet up on Wednesday, hopefully. I might have a signed lease within 48 hours!
Now, to overplan and overthink and overenthuse and overdo all of the 87 things I need to get done in the next 24 days…thanks, karma (or god, or Oprah). I needed the stress break.
