Signing on for Another Year

So, if all things fall into place, this will be my apartment starting September 1st (immediately following an approximately 12-hour period of living out of a U-Haul, or out of boxes I will scatter like horcruxes to my friends' apartments). I did a lot (a LOT) of waffling on this. My big negatives on this apartment were the imminent plant-death involved since, though there's a back deck that I really like, it's west-facing, and the apartment itself doesn't get much light, so it has the potential to be a den of SAD and unhappy house plants. Also it's basically right behind the Treasure Island, which puts me way, way too close to campus (and overpriced groceries) for my liking. But the building maintainer was exceptionally sweet, and the back yard space is amazing and belongs to enough people that I know I won't get kicked out of it by any raving nutters (and, I hope, it might be possible to claim a far corner for veggies after I've earned their trust). And I'd have a private deck, and a full kitchen. So, hey, it should be something I can live with, and, at the worst, I expect this apartment and I would have a sort of mutual respect going on, and it'll be cool. Even if I'm technically telling Chicago, yes, I'm willingly living in you for another year, so go ahead and continue to abuse me like you did tonight, when it took me two hours to get back from the loop because every single bus was full. In the end, I got to ride squished up in the front window of the third bus that came, watching Lake Shore Drive go by like it was an IMAX movie (and it wasn't a bad one, though it could've used more flying, and maybe some sharks or volcanoes).

Also, in the event that anyone decides to move to Chicago and is looking for the most awesome hipster place to live, ever, there are studio apartments in the Congress Theater building. There was one for $600 a month that I saw today as a test of my fidelity to my potential apartment, which was really cozy-looking and had exposed brick. I don't know if it's a feeling you (or maybe just I) only get in Chicago theater buildings, but there's something awesome about decades-old, worn-down wood floors and doors that you're not allowed to look behind. And the Congress has those in spades, even in the living spaces. Plus it looks like there's always stuff open, because their advertising about it isn't all that effective. (I would've taken it, except there was no ceiling fan, it weirded me out that it had its own water heater crammed into the space, and there was no laundry in the building. I'm terrible about choosing comfortable over cool, though. It's why I'll never be a real hipster.) Also, you get into concerts for free. I'm sure all of you would've loved to hear about seeing T-Pain four days after I moved in (actually, in terms of shows, the Congress isn't too great. I think the only band I've seen there was My Chemical Romance, way back in like, 2006, before all the RPS and whatnot and when people could still smoke in venues. But still. Living there would be like, instant hipster cred.)