week #35

Alas, dear readers, I am currently writing from the JFK airport in New York. Last week's rambling, optimistic post was a sham. Let me tell you...

So, I was going to be rooming with two girls out in Hoboken, N.J. (or the 'Boke as I had been calling it). Right? So, last me and this girl leave off, she texts me Friday saying "hey roomie, I'll email you the papers to sign on monday." Roomie! She called me roomie -- that's legally binding! Anyway, Monday comes and goes, and no email. So Tuesday morning I send her an email, and get no reply. Wednesday, I call and leave a message. Thursday rolls around and I'm getting nervous. I haven't heard from her, and I'm supposed to be moving in on Saturday. So Thursday, I bring out the big guns. Three calls, one text, one more email. Nothing. Friday, I try one last call, and when it goes unanswered again, I realized I have to quickly devise a plan B. Well, actually, I panic, get depressed, curse the NYC and all its evils, and then devise.

The plan I come up with is to hop on a flight from PIT to JFK early Saturday morning, and come back Saturday night. A total of about 10 hours to find a place. So I figure it's time to call in the professionals, and I call a broker. I look at some places and put in an application and deposit down on an over-priced, tiny studio on the UES, that's actually pretty cute and I will hopefully be able to move in this coming Wednesday. I am cautiously optimistic about this. I'm sure something else will go wrong (perhaps the building will burn down?) but I have to hope that cruel fate is done toying with me -- testing my will to move to New York.

Oh wait, and here's the new thing for the week (no, it wasn't using the realty broker, although that was a first, nor was it being dumped by a roommate): I am sleeping in the airport. My red eye was canceled. HA! So, I'm flying out Sunday morning. At least there's WiFi at the airport though, so I can blog and check my email, and see that potential roommate who will henceforth be known as that stupid *!$*@ emailed me saying that her other roommate doesn't actually want a third roommate, so sorry.

And so, I am begging New York, the fates, any higher being out there, and Suze Orman who's on the TV currently, to please stop messing with me, to help a sister out, to please, please, please, make something in this whole move go right, because I'm not sure how much more I can take.