As you might have guessed, Megos and I made it back to the US of A in one piece, only to be broken apart into millions of dejected and bitter little pieces, which are rapidly multiplying into zillions and shmillions of smaller, spiritless and weary pieces. We are on day 12 of our apartment search in NYC and it is truly one of the most grueling experiences.
Yo brokers, can you please stop lying to me??? I’m in touch with about 15 different brokers and each day, one will call me and say, “Julia, I found your apartment. It is perfect for you!” For a second I wonder about his real estate promises and remember I've been burned before, but then I quickly shelve those hesitations and let myself be hopeful and excited and relieved that today is the last day of this nightmarish search. He proceeds to show me a place where you have to walk through the bathroom to get to the kitchen that is barely a kitchen and mostly just a sink, and the bedrooms have no windows or closets and, the place smells like baby diaper filled with vomit, and now that he thinks of it, there is a slight mouse problem, and woops, he totes forgot to tell me that even though he’s listed as a non-fee broker, he’s actually a fee broker for the day.
So, please, please, Mister Brokers, stop your incessant and egregious lies. Here’s the thing: I’m eventually going to SEE that the apartment is not spacious and has no view of anything, and I'll soon be able to smell the revolting odor in the place because, well, I have a nose, and I’m not going to suddenly have the money to pay you a brokers fee, you sneaky slimy sneako, so just stop your fibbing and wasting everyone’s time. We have 5 days to find a place. Holy cow.
I miss Marrakech.
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