Apartment Hunting

Justin and I have been in Chicago for almost three days now. The first day consisted of landing at the airport while on board with Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk had a last name, but once we heard "Thank you for flying with United, I am Captain Kirk.." we stopped listening to what most likely was his last name and ongoing speeches about the departure time, and laughed at the odds of our captain's name being Kirk.

We woke up yesterday nice and early to begin our apartment search. We made our way around using The El, ate gyros and philly cheesesteak, and viewed at least six apartments. Our search started off strong with a wonderful open living space with large rooms. Justin is concerned about the ugliness of the building and I had no complaints. As the day went on, we found nothing remotely close to the first apartment that we had seen. Our most memorable viewing was with a Greek lady named Sophia.

Justin and I were writing down a number when Sophia came to us asking if we were looking for an apartment. We agreed to meet her a few hours later. When we returned we walked into a disastorous apartment with a peeing dog, every room in the apartment being a different color and then to three of Sophia's cats running out of the bathroom. She continued her attempt to sell us on the cohesiveness of her building and its tenants, the barbeques all the neighbors have on the chaotic decks and I stood behind Justin in silence as we tried to make our way out of there as soon as possible.

Justin has discovered that he is easily able to determine my thoughts on any apartment we have seen. When I am excited about an apartment during the viewing, I ask questions and do most of the talking. When I do not like the apartment, Justin knows. I walk around the apartment in complete silence, often saying things like "its big" when asked by the realtor on my thoughts. Justin then has to take charge and ask all the questions, but he knows when we leave, my exact thoughts on what we saw.

In the last two days, I have learned that I am not a fan of "vintage." I always thought I had great appreciation for vintage things and especially vintage buildings, but unfortunately I have discovered that vintage means old, usually dirty, squeaky floors, and a dirty bathroom with unremovable dirt and grime in between the tiles.

After a streak of "vintage" apartments, we found ourselves at an older building with a gut rehab condo. The minute I walked into the unit, I knew it was a contender. Then the tenants came home with their dog. It was a pug! Fate? Possibly.

So we are between the first condo and the last condo we saw yesterday. I'm excited to see where we end up!