Today was "THE" day...the day I got the keys to my apartment and the beginning of my new chapter as a quasi-empty-nester at the age of 38. I thought I was prepared for this. I went to the complex, called the office to say I was there, and went to the door to sign the last of the paperwork and get my keys.
The leasing agent legitimately asked if I could come back later. What? Um, no. If I'm paying for today then I want my keys earlier rather than later. I have stuff to do and a job to do, too. She told me the apartment wasn't ready yet but she guessed I could go in and to not put anything on the countertops...only in the middle of the room.
Let's be real. I was pissed before I even got to the unit. When I got there I was so underwhelmed. I blame myself and my idyllic personality. I had it all figured out and it was going to be amazing and perfect and it was just okay. Then I went into the bathroom and that's when I said, "We're done here." It was white. It was sterile and it looked like I walked into the bathroom of a psych ward/looney bin like in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and I walked back out. I called the complex and said, "I'm not going to be able to do this." I explained my position, my disappointment, and how I feel that, if I'm going to be stuck at home for the foreseeable future, that I should at least be happy and comfortable where I live.
The manager listened to my complaints and asked to call me back after she went to go look at the unit...the unit that was already behind schedule because it should've been move-in ready this morning. I got coffee and she called me back to say there were some other units if I was interested in looking. The assistant manager took me to two other units: one just like the one I had leased but on a different floor and an interior apartment instead of a corner. It was near power lines/towers so I knew my mom would say no because she doesn't want me to get cancer. The other one was a little bit bigger and a true 2 bedroom with 2 bathrooms, which I have adamantly announced I don't need since I'm pulling a Kevin McAlister and growing up and getting married and living alone. You know, minus the married thing.
It was so much better. Still on a corner, still on the third floor only with no trees but lots of green space. It was what I expected in my head. Is it more expensive? Yes. Is it probably more space than I truly need? Also yes. But it's still cheaper than what I've been paying and there's a ton of natural light instead of it being a tomb like the one I originally leased. I accepted the $300 gift card they offered me for my trouble and went home to do my Zoom meetings. When they were finished I went back to get my keys, pay the remainder of the prorated amount, and survey my new space. I brought with me a coffee pot and coffee, a toaster, toilet paper, soap, and paper towels...and, I ask you: what else do I really need?
Oh, yes. Internet. The best part about this whole ordeal (and this is serious sarcasm here) is that I get to change my address again. Like, I rushed to change my address because some stuff has already been mailed to the new address and...oh, shoot! Luckily, everyone I had to call directly (electric, insurance, internet installation, etc.) have been really nice and appropriately horrified at my experience. There's been a lot of laughter, which was not expected as I burst into stress tears earlier today. As I was recapping the whole situation to someone they said, "My oh my you are a unique individual," which I took as an exceptional compliment because...duh. I don't let myself get overwhelmed often but this is one of those times where I feel like a mini-meltdown was perfectly acceptable.
The jury's still out on how the next 15 months will go in a variety of ways but here's hoping it doesn't suck and perhaps aims for a little higher than slightly better than mediocre!
Aubs
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