I'm going back to find some peace of mind in San Jose [part II]
Continued from part I.
"Su-NAP!" exclaimed Jack as he stepped into the courtyard of Sixty South Street, the name and address of my soon-to-be new apartment building — though I didn't know it then.
It was the fifth building we'd visited on my short list of five; the day before I'd visited or driven by 12 apartment buildings on my own. Two were eliminated based solely on location: I'm not moving across the continent to end up living in Scarborough or Newmarket. One was eliminated because it didn't allow pets. Two, because they were too snooty for my liking. One, because despite the fact that it was 5:40 when I arrived and the sign in the office window said open until 6:00, was closed. And one, because it had no available one-bedrooms for August.
Jack had driven down from The City to act as my California consultant because I'd asked him to and because he can be really swell when he wants to be. This morning he'd been patiently escorting me from apartment building to apartment building, offering his I.D. to be held as collateral while we toured the property; pointing out questions I should raise; and generally charming the salesgirls — but he'd offered no opinion on any of the places we'd seen.
Until now.
What caused his exclamation, and, further, his momentary lapse into Frankenslang, was the sight of the courtyard of my building.
To be continued in part III.
"Su-NAP!" exclaimed Jack as he stepped into the courtyard of Sixty South Street, the name and address of my soon-to-be new apartment building — though I didn't know it then.
It was the fifth building we'd visited on my short list of five; the day before I'd visited or driven by 12 apartment buildings on my own. Two were eliminated based solely on location: I'm not moving across the continent to end up living in Scarborough or Newmarket. One was eliminated because it didn't allow pets. Two, because they were too snooty for my liking. One, because despite the fact that it was 5:40 when I arrived and the sign in the office window said open until 6:00, was closed. And one, because it had no available one-bedrooms for August.
Jack had driven down from The City to act as my California consultant because I'd asked him to and because he can be really swell when he wants to be. This morning he'd been patiently escorting me from apartment building to apartment building, offering his I.D. to be held as collateral while we toured the property; pointing out questions I should raise; and generally charming the salesgirls — but he'd offered no opinion on any of the places we'd seen.
Until now.
What caused his exclamation, and, further, his momentary lapse into Frankenslang, was the sight of the courtyard of my building.
To be continued in part III.
4 Comments:
What the heck......?
The back parts of Alcatraz? Lenin's Mausoleum?
The courtyard of my apartment building. Isn't it fabulous?
Now's the perfect time for you to pursue that graffiti art passion you've always harbored. Just look at that canvas!
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