I ran over to the West End to check out an apartment after work yesterday. I had been daydreaming about this place for almost two days and I was sure that it was going to be the perfect place; character building, wood buring fireplace, walk in closet, french doors into the bedroom and a whopping 830 SF! Sounds wonderful doesn't it? I could just see myself poking at the fire and drinking tea and eating biscuits with my h-omi's in my cozy living room with original hardwood floors....SO I get there and the tenant is this super friendly gay guy who just doesnt stop talking. Right I away I notice that this place is most definately not 830 SF. First he takes me into the kitchen, which looked much better in the photos I saw. But I wasnt going to give up on my perfect apartment yet! The breadmaker gave off a wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread as I looked around the room I thought (mmmmm...bread...wait...I dont even eat bread...i'm suppose to be dieting! well...not dieting...eating healthy...yes....no buying bread on the way home! K I know bread ain't that bad but me and wheat, it ain't neat.) So we carry on into the living room which is cute, and then I check out the bedroom (which btw dude: it's a dining room when there's a door leading back into the kitchen.) I get a little excited when I see that there is actual chopped wood beside the fireplace! I can actually have a real fire? Yes, he says...NO I say in my head...I try to think of a clever way to talk about Geoff and his knowledge that wood burning fires are not legal in downtown vancouver...but then he shows me the walk in closet so I forget about it. Now this closet was not so great, definatley not the CarrieBradeshawesque I had been dreaming about and as I looked around the apartment there was no window to gaze over onto the street! the bedroom faced the alley and the rest of the windows looked out at a concrete wall...this really wasn't going well. There was still the washroom to look at and as the tenant carried on about putting your towel on the heaters so it would be warm in the morning I slowly pushed open the bathroom door, hoping for a clawfoot tub or vintage vanity lightbulbs...something to give me hope for my perfect apartment...but instead I saw something else. something unexpected. I looked down and suddenly I stopped breathing. (old school horror movie music please) ohmygodohmygodohmygod thereispoopfloatinginthetoilet! backawayslowlysoyoudontembarasshim butfastenoughsoyoudontsmellitohmygoditstoolateohmygod
It was way to late and finally when I had backed away from the door the poor guy stepped forward and lost track of what he was saying 'oh geez, sorry about that!' (I let out what I think was a nervous laugh but I can't be sure) he closed the lid and quickly changed the subject, now talking even faster than before...by then I couldnt think...The stupid guy wouldnt stop talking and I wanted to scream 'give me some goddamn soap dude! I need to wash my hands! I touched your bathroom door! I saw your poop! I took a deep breathe and told him I'd take another quick look around...I thought if I could just clear the image out of my head, I could see potential in this place. I could walk into the bathroom with bravery and check out the bathtub (which wasnt clawfoot btw). I wandered back over to the door and pushed it open. youcantgoinyoucantgoinyou...I couldnt do it. I told him it was a great space and that I was still interested, to tell his landlord to call me...then I said my goodbye's and walked as quickly out of that building as my little feet could carry me and never looked back. That night I got home and I couldnt eat my dinner. Not only had I completely lost my appetitie but I had also lost what was most important; My dream apartment! Moral of the story in association to skinny jeans: If you don't want to pig out on dinner, go check out some poop!
