House Huntin'

"I can't understand why it's taking so long to process my application. I mean, they rent to hookers for Chrissakes!"
"Maybe you're too legit."
"The super has no teeth and used to live at the shelter where I work. That should be my in, right?!?"

Waiting for a management company to get back to you about a new apartment is nerve-wracking. It's particularly nerve-wracking when you've forked over $400 in cold, hard cash as a deposit and then heard nothing for days on end. Thank God I asked for a receipt. Years of being used and abused have taught me something, apparently.

Filling out the application is equally stressful for me because I'm such a loose cannon. It's hard for me to list my past addresses because, well, I've had about seven in the past year alone. I usually just list my home in Charlottetown and pray they don't ask too many questions about University of Toronto paraphenalia and vaguely American accent.

I used to say that I would always be a renter, since I can't commit to anything and I find even the signing of a twelve-month lease leads to a tightening of the chest and small spots dancing before my eyes. Although I can't see myself being a homeowner in the next five years, the stability is appealing...

Now where's my freakin' apartment?!?