Oh apartment hunting. It can be such an exciting moment when you find the right place. But come on, it’s a chore.
In New York, you waste 20 hours a week and your bosses money looking at apartments on Craigslist. Then you spend 15 hours a week wandering around strange neighborhoods with a Google map trying to figure out where you are. And then another 10 hours are gone looking at shoebox apartments with paint on the windows and unidentified stains on the walls. It’s a full-time job.
But if apartment hunting in New York were as easy as it is in Bangkok, people would tour places on the weekend for fun. My real estate agent Wit _ a polite and friendly guy who wants nothing more than to make me happy _ picks me up every day and shows me apartments. He negotiates the rent with the landlord (you can bargain for everything here, even real estate) and tries to convince them to install the oven I can’t seem to live without. I guess the luxury of cooking a chicken any time I want is too tempting to pass up.
Apartments here are beautiful, affordable and have amenities you can’t imagine in the states (spa-like pools, fitness centers, tennis courts). I could be happy in any place I’ve seen. But no, I want the BEST.
I went out with another real estate agent yesterday to see more places. As if I needed more options. But having two real estate agents is like trying to have two boyfriends. They’re sensitive about you seeing someone else and you definitely don’t want one to call while you’re with the other. So when Wit called while I was seeing apartments with Nicky (a nice, but aggressive girl), my guilt-tinged voice and one-word answers must have tipped him off to my duplicity.
But in the end I went running back to Wit. He conveniently ignored my infidelity and we were happy once again. He treats me well and gave me more than I could have asked for … including a big flat-screen TV.
What a guy.
(More pictures of my fantastic new apartment to come!)