For the past two months I've been negotiating a living situation with my current roommate. The discussion was about whether I move out or he moves out. For the first three weeks, every time I mentioned it, his response was, "We have plenty of time." Finally, six weeks ago I said, "We don't really have plenty of time. I need to know what your plans are so I can make mine."
Long story short-ish: We decided he would be the one to move out. On April 1st he agreed to a May 15th move out date. That would give me time to clean this place up and get it ready for my new roommate. She's moving from Indiana to Los Angeles at the end of May. To find out more, you can read her journal, Unhinged.
Two weeks ago, my current roommate begged to pay me $500 if I'd move. He had been out looking at apartments (like, two of them) and was wiped out. We had another serious conversation about how important it is that he needs to move out or I'll need to make other plans. Again, he swore he'd move.
Well, yesterday he called me from his bedroom. I was in mine. He was sounding all pathetic and sorry this, sorry that. After a minute of beating around the bush, I pinned him down to commit to what he was trying to say. He's not moving afterall. Well, surprise...not! This time he offered a thousand dollars to buy me out.
~ I'm really making an effort to edit this entry for the sake of avoiding a TOSable offense. ~
You see, if Andi and I needed to go apartment hunting, she would've planned a trip here ... um ... three weeks ago. But because my roommate gave his notice and swore he'd move out, Andi didn't need to spend the airfare. She's already shipping her belongings and flying cross country. She's been to this apartment. She knows the layout. She approved. But now, to book the same flight with shorter notice would cost double (practically half a month's rent). Not cool.
As I was writing (and drastically editing) this entry, I realized I have something weighing on my heart.
My move date is 3-4 weeks away. Most places are asking for a year's lease. That means I have to make a year's decision on Andi's behalf. The stress of that alone is almost worse than having to fit six weeks of preparation into three. I didn't realize it'd be an issue for me. She's not here to get a feel for these places. To get a sense of the surrounding areas. To really see the dimensions, smell the land, feel the cool tile. Something that I might think has great potential and character may be something she'd run from. And vice versa.
So far, her experience of the places I've seen, has been one-dimensional - with snippets of my ramblings.
I'm walking in the front door...oh, that's interesting...ew, weird...there's a room...and another room...and like a window with a thing on it.
Seriously, I don't know how she deals with me.
I'm also quickly finding out I do not have an eye for taking real estate pictures. Seriously, my photos suck. No matter how cute, charming, big, small, bright, cheery, dull or dreary, every picture looks like a generic camera mistake. You know, like when you're near the end of a roll of film and you just want to finish it to get it developed?
If this were at all visible, you'd be able to see there is a wall in the bedroom. And this is the bathroom door. Oh, and here's the kitchen floor.
This is a huge responsibility. A big decision. Partially-blind trust. And I'm suddenly not very comfortable with it.
Oh wait. I might be PMSing. And it's past my bedtime. I'll get a fresh start in the morning. Maybe things will look different.
I do believe everything happens for a reason. I'm okay with the way things are. Really I am. But this whole thing was completely avoidable if I'd just listened to my gut instincts. I was just so hoping that my current roommate would be able to show up, and be true to his word. But you know, I just had this nagging feeling. So far, that's twice in a week - and both were dead on. Time to start listening.