well, first - you get to hear the story about how, half an hour before I was supposed to meet with the rental agent, I realized I would be late and that I should call in and let the agent know I would be behind schedule.
Side note for any random passers-by who don't know me yet, late is a relative term (please see blog title for more specific indicators). Most people consider about fifteen minutes' grace time when saying they will be somewhere at a specific time. To me, fifteen minutes late is late. Ten minutes past is late. On time? Yep, still late. In fact, to a person who is as spun up as myself, even if I'm five minutes early, I have arrived late.
So, with all of that in mind, my appointment was at one pm. I knew I would not arrive at 12:45 or before, as I had intended, and would thus be late. So I called. And now we're back on track to where we were last paragraph....
"Hello, yes, agent? I just wanted to let you know I might be a few minutes late for my one o'clock appointment."
"Oh, that's ok, we are flexible! Oh, and I just wanted to let you know, one of the houses, the house that you wanted to see most of all, just got rented."
Oh, crap, I've forgotten an important part of the joke here so that the punch line makes sense: the house that was my favorite, that I wanted to see most of all? I was fully prepared to fill out the application paperwork the instant the listing came up. No joke, last Tuesday morning I refreshed the page, saw this new listing, and hit the "Apply Now!" button. But then I realized the listing didn't mention the pet policy, and our kittens are our children so no pets was not an option, so I decided to call and ask. After a few slightly irritating days of not having my calls returned, on Friday I finally got in touch with someone. I was told that I would be unable to complete an application until I saw the house I wanted in person, in the company of an agent of the leasing company. Ohhhh-kaaaay, completely inconvenient, but whatever, we live close enough and have somewhere to stay in the area, I'll play along. So, how does Thursday sound? Fantastic.
So here it is, Thursday, noon-thirty, haven't eaten so I'm getting hungry (and if I'm hungry, I'm already the emotional equivalent of an eight year old), I'm going to be not-on-time, which is one of my least favorite things EVER, and the house that I was willing to apply for just off the first picture has been rented. Yes, there was a tantrum, but I managed to keep the severe case of pouty lip to the car ride out to the agency.
Anyway. From there on out it was a scramble to stack up all of the viewings I could to try to get a house that I would be happy with. S#it got all Goldilocks - at least, as much as it does when one is a brunette - this house is too big, this one is too small, this one has colors on the walls that are only appropriate to Easter Eggs, this one has the master on the ground floor and is about twelve inches from the next door's back porch (you guys want some sex with your barbecue? yeah, me neither), this one's got too much yard, and a few generally confusing layouts leading me to believe the architects may not have been fully paying attention to the task at hand when designing these residences. Heck, even the house I selected has an... interesting... layout. A lot of zigging and zagging in the upstairs hallways, and I'm going to be super amused and simultaneously terrified when the movers try to get the washer and dryer up the stairs and into the laundry room at the end of the hall.
Houses Two and Three (as seen here) were seen (House number two is the barbecue fiesta, house number three is Too Small for this not-so-goldilocks), plus a few others, and then I got lucky - I called to confirm the time I was meeting up with the agent to see a currently occupied house, and she told me the would-be renters of Favorite House had changed their minds and were going to buy, would we like to see that house while we were in the neighborhood? OF COURSE I DID.
So, barring any issues with the application, our new home sweet home:
The only fly in the ointment being that it is not available until two and a half weeks after we are scheduled to PCS. Now let's just hope Husband and I don't kill each other and the dogs don't eat our kittens while we're staying with Aunt Nancy. Also, if the Moving Gods are listening, can all of the furniture I want show up on Craigslist for super super cheap?
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