With the flick of the pen, I was a Seattle resident. The lease to my new apartment was signed.
Parts of me enjoyed the apartment search. Dreams of new neighborhoods and open spaces flashed with each visit of a prospective pad. Then the budget started to extend and the end of the month deadline approached. Always the same question for the realtor: “How much interest have you had in the place?” Always the same answer: “A lot.” Slowly, the situation grew stressful.
Every afternoon I checked one of three website with apartment listings, usually with the same results. Too expensive. Too far. Carpet—no way! At one point I found the one. It went online at noon. I saw it listed at 2:00pm. My viewing was scheduled for 7:00pm. By 6:30pm, it was off the market. From that point on, I had my checkbook with me at all times, ready to put down a deposit.
I started applying for places I didn’t even want. One apartment was a few bars short of a jail cell. The neighborhood was perfect. Close for the commute. And faux wood floors! But cinder block walls. Poor lighting. After submitting my application, it thought: “I don’t want to live here.” And so I didn’t.
My future home was one of these on-the-spot decisions. A viewing was scheduled just 30 minutes after mine, so I felt the clock ticking. I felt comfortable in the 500-ish square foot one and one, and really dug the the claw-foot bath tub and the door handles that harked back to the 1910 building design. That carpet though. Shiver.
The apartment manager then brought me up to the roofdeck. “Best view of Seattle” he said. He was right. After explaining where holiday fireworks could be seen, he mentioned that the pub across the street was a Sounders bar. With that, I was sold. Check signed, sealed, delivered.
I celebrated with a beer in the pub. Everything about the neighborhood reminded me of Prospect Heights. Pub, distillery, doughnut shop, deli, and pizza joint all right there on the corner. I immediately felt at home. I cozied up to the bar. The Seahawks were on TV. I cheered on my hometown team.