bah humbug

New York, I tell you, is not a fun place. Okay, school is fine, and the weather is no longer so absolutely unbearably hot, but I still have no place to live. Did you hear that, people? No place to live. I am homeless. I live on Stephanie's couch. My suitcases live along the wall in her living room. My boxes of stuff from last year live in DTL's living room. (He doesn't want them there anymore, but where can I put them?)

I spend my free time (and a lot of class time) looking on craigslist for a place to live. I finally figured out how to answer craigslist roommate postings and I have now gotten a grand total of two responses - but neither of them are in a hurry because they don't need someone until October 1. So they say, "How about you come by and meet me next week?" and I say, "I'M LIVING ON SOMEONE'S COUCH!" But you can't sound desperate, so I can't say that. I am calm, of course, and say things like, "I have some appointments with brokers and it would be great not to have to meet with them if I don't need to."

Yay! One of the people just emailed back and asked if I can come by tonight. I hope, I hope... it's a beautiful place just around the corner from where I'm staying, with exposed brick walls and a fireplace. It would be so nice to have a home.

Jessica, Stephanie's roommate, just came home and I asked her if it was okay to resend emails to two people who I contacted before to ask about apartments (they never answered - this was before I had figured out how to answer the postings) or if they would think i was a stalker. She pointed out that these people don't know me, so it doesn't really matter if they think that I'm a stalker, because all that will mean is that they don't contact me, if they even remember me. And if they don't remember me, maybe I will get to live with them.

I love people who manage to have perspective. I manage it so rarely, about my own life.