I finally found a new apartment. It took me 3 months of looking in Berkeley and 1 week of looking in San Francisco. Let me tell you about the misadventures I had.

First off, if you aren't a vegan or vegetarian your housing options are limited. I don't understand vegans. Do you really hate being alive so much that you have to deprive yourself of great food?

Also, not wanting to live in a communal really puts a damper on living options too.

Here are three real life scenarios:

1. I made an appointment to see a room that is detached from the house and doesn't have it's own bathroom. One would have to walk up the back deck steps to go inside to use the bathroom or kitchen. I might have been able to get used to that idea because it was in the perfect location. What the ad didn't mention is the studio space that is attached to the room. In this room they teach music lessons, community yoga classes, zumba classes (?), and they have a children's summer camp. There are so many things wrong with living there. Topping it off is the woman's nose piercing. You are a mother of 2 in your 40's. Grow up, take things that are magnetic out of your body, except for maybe your hip. And further more, put a shirt on. You are fat. I don't want to see the bra straps of an ample middle aged woman. Maybe some people are into that, I'm not. And your husband's haircut is atrocious. What? You cut the hair yourself? I would have never guessed. Mainly because I would have guessed you paid a blind homeless person.

2. I found an ad for a room for a reasonable price. I left church early one day in order to meet the person who owns the house and would be my landlord. He referred to himself as a semi-retired physician. I had high hopes. The house looked nice from the outside and was in a decent neighborhood. As soon as the man came toward the door I knew that this wasn't going to work. He is malformed. His left arm and leg are both underdeveloped. Am I the only one who would walk out of a doctor's office if the doctor came walking into the examination room doing his best Igor or Hunchback of Notre Dame impersonation? It isn't like he is going to run after you if you leave. Could you imagine? That seems like a scene from a horror movie. This man is the doctor for the people in The Hills Have Eyes or Wrong Turn.

Just on sight alone I know this housing situation
wasn't going to work. Also, the man was easily in his 70's. He shuffles to the door and opens it and invites me in. The front room smells of cigarette smoke. The couch looks like the man likes to find his furniture underneath overpasses. The batting is coming out of every cushion, and is dark grey instead of white. He tells me that he sees his patients in his living room and that it would be off limits to me. What?! You have patients? For what? Are you sure you didn't mean patience? What type of physician are you really? He then gives me a tour of the house and shows me how "clean" his kitchen and bathroom are. And he tells me that he expects that standard to remain high. There is rust on the kitchen cabinets. I don't even know how that works because they are wooden. And the bathroom. Somebody tried to be handy and tiled their own shower. Too bad you could tell that the handiman only had one working arm. The tile was slanting all over the place, and the grout lines grew thick and thin depending where you look. After the tour he wanted me to sit on the couch and discuss the prospect of me living in the house. I said that I was already late for another appointment to see another room for rent. Blech!

3. I found a room for a bit more than I cared to spend, but the description sounded nice and the person who would have been my roommate sounded like a decent person in our emails. I go to visit. First of all, the house is south of Ashby and not east enough to be nice. Side note: What is up with Marvin the Martian and latino gangsters? The whole purpose of your look is to intimidate and you go with Looney Tunes? Something has been lost in translation. Everybody knows that Wile E. Coyote is a true thug. Back to the apartment. I knew it was going to be really classy by the table that somebody had fabricated out of marble tile samples. Between that and the coating of cigarette butts on the porch, I knew I had found home. But somebody hadn't told me it was basically a coop house that hadn't been cleaned in years. I walk in, the entry way lights wouldn't turn on. There is a bald man that resembles a mental patient smiling, did I imagine the drool?, staring at the television. I laughed and walked out the door without seeing the room.

Junk punches all around! Except for my new roomies!