Brief Intermission Due to Crippledness

Just typing up a note to let you know that there WILL be more posts, but right now I am unable to type for more than a few minutes at a time. 

For some reason (probably too much knitting on too tiny needles), I started experiencing a weird numbness in my right pinky finger. After feeling that for about three days... the left pinky followed. So I looked up "pinky finger numbness" and discovered that I probably have something called ulna neuropathy. It has something to do with the ulna nerve (the thing commonly known as a funny bone, which is not a bone). The nerve gets trapped somehow, causing numbness and discomfort to the fingers, hands, and forearms. This type of repetitive motion injury is generally brought on by holding your arms bent at the elbows for too long.  You know, kind of like you do while knitting, typing, etc. 

What this means is that I spent this whole day feeling a mixture of grumpy and depressed because I can't do the important shit I need to, like writing cover letters for job applications, or even the fun shit I'd rather be doing, like knitting or blogging. Even picking things up has caused me some difficulty. The best I can do is a bit of texting, because my thumbs have the most functionality of anything past my elbow. 

So, I'm pretty fucking bored, and you have to be too. I suppose I can try to teach myself to type and knit and write with my feet, because nothing bad could come from that idea. Well, until I succeed at feet-typing, or until my damn ulna nerves quit shitting the bed, I'm on hiatus here. Wish me luck, bitches. 

How to Find an Apartment*

*satisfaction is not guaranteed.

It's that time of year, chilluns: Moving Season! At least, it is here in the Windy City. It's the time of year when migrant scholars (i.e. people who came here for school) who have accomplished what they came here for ultimately decide to move away to warmer, colder, more rural, or more urban settings, as the case may be. My understanding is that most of them move back home to mooch off of their parents, but I digress.

Moving Season! The story of moving season can be adequately described by the first line of A Tale of Two Cities:  "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." to find an apartment, that is. There are lots of apartments up for rent (good), but the nice ones get snatched up quickly (bad). You can get a place in a nicer part of town (good), if you don't mind living in a matchbox (bad.)

Like with dating, finding an apartment requires certain compromises, then more compromises, and finally the loss of all standards as you scrabble to find the last goddamn viable option. However, like dating, there are certain requirements that cannot be compromised: item one, must have pulse; item two, must have preferred set of genitals; item three, must not be in a vegetative state, etc. It's a bit different for apartments, but you get the idea. You start out with your list of What I Want, and end up just trying to find What I Need. Here are my lists.

What I Want: 
-something above 750 sq feet (i.e. large enough to house my collection of books)
-a dishwasher
-central heat
-air-conditioning
-close proximity to public transit
-dog-friendly
-laundry on-site, although in-unit would be preferred.
-parking
-located in a specific neighborhood
-NOT next to a firehouse or the Metra track
-if above second floor, an elevator so that I don't have to carry the fat elderly Hogbeaste up the stairs.

What I Need: 
-dog-friendly
-located in *safe part* of a specific neighborhood
-close proximity to public transit
-not above second floor (Hogbeaste)

You see how the lists differ. To get everything I want, I'd have to make a shitload of money, and also maybe provide all the people in Hell with ice water, but I knew that. Some "wants" always get sacrified, especially after you've begun to peruse the apartment listings, which results in a gradual depletion of morale and desire to continue living. This is primarily because these ads are written in a roughly universal language of euphemisms:

• Cozy or Cute: so small it can only hold one person at a time, if that person assumes the fetal position. 
• Unique: something is seriously fucked up here, but you won't find out until it's too late.
• Vintage: really old, as in there may still be asbestos in the walls.
• Large or Spacious: you can put furniture in this place, but don't go crazy now.
• Rehabbed: freshly painted and has some new appliances, but grossly overpriced for the size and location to make up for the upgrades.
• Studio: You live in the same room as the refrigerator.
• One Bedroom: has an extra closet that will hopefully hold that bed you bought at Ikea
• Two Bedroom: has *two* extra closets that will hopefully each hold a bed.
• Den: Weird extra space that's big enough for a bookshelf but otherwise has no rational explanation for existing.
• Eat-In Kitchen: there's room for a chair. 
• Hardwood Floor: scratch it and you're fucked. Also, no carpet for you, peasant.
• Walkup: you're going up at least three flights of rickety winding stairs, maybe more.
• Street Parking: not on the same street as the apartment. 
• In-unit laundry: Add $200 to your rent. 
• Heat Included: apartment temperature averages 80 degrees even in January, just because. 
• Free Water: there's nothing else to offer, at least if you're in Chicago... Because EVERYONE gets free water, so this is NOT a viable selling point. 
• Pet friendly: smells like wet dog everywhere.

And if you come across a listing for an apartment with NO pictures, that is because it's most likely a shitwreck that's not worth seeing. 

So, having read this post, you should be ready to find an apartment. Not a good apartment, mind you; not an apartment you'll want to live in forever; but an apartment that will serve you for a year, at which point you'll start this whole brain-burning process over again. Oh, and have fun packing all your shit. There's more than you think, and you're going to need at least five more boxes than you have. Best of luck!