A few days ago I got a call from a real estate agent letting me know a studio apartment at a complex near my job was available.   I had been looking at this complex since 2007, primarily because it was located in the most ideal area:  close to work, right by the water and next to a gorgeous park, the surroundings were so pretty you could almost forget the urban jungle that was next door.

I made an appointment for a viewing last Saturday and drove to the apartment grounds on what turned out to be a spectacular summer day.  There was a bagel cafe across the street and the aroma of coffee filled the air.  The trees whistled and the birds sang, while in the distance a blue ocean beckoned and fed the stream that led into the park next door.  Yep, I could definitely get used to living here.

I met up with the realtor and the moment we stepped inside, the magic ended.

As the door opened, a narrow stairwell immediately presented itself which I had to walk down. Wait, this apartment is lower level??

The descent into madness begins.

The apartment was right by the bottom of the stairs, pretty convenient I guess, but also a recipe for noise, noise, noise:

A basement studio at a garden apartment? Seriously?

Is that a doorbell??

The door swung opened and I took a look inside. The studio was big, very air and roomy, and I could tell even with furniture there would still be plenty of space to maneuver around:

This is an apartment they said was practically ready for me to move into...

Can you say, doity?

The windows were simply tragic.  Not only was it blocked by slabs of concrete, but they looked ancient:

Cobwebs filled the window in the bathroom.

The main window above the sleeping alcove.

They used tape to cover the screen holes???

After I almost gagged from daring to look outside the windows, I moved on to the kitchen:

If you wanna look inside you better ask yourself: Do I feel lucky?

I kept thinking a tentacle would reach out and strangle me if I got too close.

Gas stove. Boom.

Now on to the bathroom!

Ew.

Ewwwwwww...

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Ok, that’s  quite enough now.  The realtor then showed me the laundry room, which was literally down the hall.  The apartment was next to a storage area too, so if you opened the door and looked to your right this is what you would see:

So this is where they keep all the stolen merchandise!

Right after the storage area was the coin operated laundry machines:

No hot babe washing her lingerie to be found here.

You want me to wash my stylish Old Navy shirts in THAT??

After we went back outside and I got a chance to suck in the fresh air again, the realtor informed me that the apartment was being offered for $100 less a month, that there would be no broker’s fee annnnnnnnd I would get first month’s rent free.  I get the impression that they were having a little trouble getting this unit filled.  Uh huh.

I’ve gone apartment hunting once or twice in the past, and I remember one time when I went to a place with two of my coworkers to check out a small one bedroom.  The place was filthy, but my coworkers kept walking around and going ooooooo and ahhhhhh, this is so awesome!  They thought I was being a snob because I refused to live in such a dump, especially one where the landlords were 80 something year old folks who would probably forget they were even renting it to me and call the police one night thinking I was a burglar.  That would have been awkward.

But anyway, checking out this place made me think of that time.  The studio was hands down a complete and unmitigated disaster area.  No amount of cleaning would ever make it sanitary, especially considering I had allergies too.

But was I being too snobbish?  Was I asking for too much to want to live in a nice, cozy apartment that was clean, roomy (and preferably above ground?)

It was really tragic to see such a horrific looking place in such a beautiful area.  Right now I live in a decent apartment with my folks that was clean, had carpeting, a washer/dryer, all those basic amenities that I tend to take for granted, even though it’s in a less than ideal area (as in, next to a train station and a water tower and an army of day laborers that infest our streets  like a plague.)  Regardless, an apartment like this was so hard to come by that we all breathed a collective sigh of relief in finally discovering an apartment that didn’t look like something out of Dante’s Inferno.

I don’t want a luxury apartment for crying out loud, I just want one that’s clean, but apparently just being clean enough is considered a luxury as well. 

Ah well.  I’m still glad I went to check it out at least.  I had been looking at that area for so long that it was nice to finally rule it out and focus my attention elsewhere, and maybe eventually find a place that will turn out to be even better.  And if that makes me a snob, so be it. 

Tags: apartment, appointment, bathroom, coworkers, filthy, kitchen, landlord, laundry room, living, luxury, sleeping alcove, storage, unsanitary
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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