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Aug. 14th, 2008 11:10 amSo potentially I was less than clear yesterday about my housing options :D
All three places I looked at were basically what the agents call vintage rehabs, which translates to "recently painted but very elderly flats". The two I essentially rejected both had terrible bathrooms: rusty, elderly fixtures, grubby floors, dirty windows, that kind of thing, and the one with the woodburning stove had a pretty objectionable kitchen too. The one that's frontrunner is at least reasonably well-kept and the kitchen is HUGE, though there's no counter space (I suspect it was designed to be able to call itself a breakfast nook, but really it's just a big empty space. Still, I could get a big table and put it there).
But, I emailed the agent and said I'd like to look at a few more places, whilst and at the same time printing out all the paperwork and getting it filled out. I just want this over and done with, really, but I also decided that I needed one more evening and if the place on the same block goes, then obviously it wasn't meant to be. And as Spider caused me to conclude, I really shouldn't factor in my parents' Thoughts OnYaoi My Housing, because whatever I do they'll end up staying in Evanston or Deerfield or somewhere as difficult as possible anyway.
Also, my glasses broke on Monday; the earpiece just snapped off its hinge and the spring broke, so I've had a lovely bit of brown tape on my glasses all week (where's a soldering iron when you need one). I went to Lenscrafters yesterday instead of going to lunch but they've discontinued using Brooks Brothers frames, so they can't just give me a new earpiece; I've got to get a new eye exam, pick out new frames (hellish process) and then wait two weeks. Because while you may be able to get most eyeglasses in about an hour, I have freaky alien eyes that require special lenses that have to be ground and fitted on the moon, or something. Out of diamond, to judge by the price. So, I know what I'm doing on Saturday.
But I will refuse to have my pupils dilated, because I can't stand eyedrops or probes touching my eyes and it's a pain in the ass and the likelihood of me having cataracts at the age of 28 is pretty much nil, so fuck 'em. This, and my refusal to have my teeth grit-polished at the dentist's office, deeply offends my mother, who calls it "being headstrong".
Well, duh, mum. GUESS WHO MADE ME THAT WAY.
All three places I looked at were basically what the agents call vintage rehabs, which translates to "recently painted but very elderly flats". The two I essentially rejected both had terrible bathrooms: rusty, elderly fixtures, grubby floors, dirty windows, that kind of thing, and the one with the woodburning stove had a pretty objectionable kitchen too. The one that's frontrunner is at least reasonably well-kept and the kitchen is HUGE, though there's no counter space (I suspect it was designed to be able to call itself a breakfast nook, but really it's just a big empty space. Still, I could get a big table and put it there).
But, I emailed the agent and said I'd like to look at a few more places, whilst and at the same time printing out all the paperwork and getting it filled out. I just want this over and done with, really, but I also decided that I needed one more evening and if the place on the same block goes, then obviously it wasn't meant to be. And as Spider caused me to conclude, I really shouldn't factor in my parents' Thoughts On
Also, my glasses broke on Monday; the earpiece just snapped off its hinge and the spring broke, so I've had a lovely bit of brown tape on my glasses all week (where's a soldering iron when you need one). I went to Lenscrafters yesterday instead of going to lunch but they've discontinued using Brooks Brothers frames, so they can't just give me a new earpiece; I've got to get a new eye exam, pick out new frames (hellish process) and then wait two weeks. Because while you may be able to get most eyeglasses in about an hour, I have freaky alien eyes that require special lenses that have to be ground and fitted on the moon, or something. Out of diamond, to judge by the price. So, I know what I'm doing on Saturday.
But I will refuse to have my pupils dilated, because I can't stand eyedrops or probes touching my eyes and it's a pain in the ass and the likelihood of me having cataracts at the age of 28 is pretty much nil, so fuck 'em. This, and my refusal to have my teeth grit-polished at the dentist's office, deeply offends my mother, who calls it "being headstrong".
Well, duh, mum. GUESS WHO MADE ME THAT WAY.
