Little Pig, Little Pig, Let Me In

I may shortly be kicking down the door of my own apartment. That is if there's an apartment left for me to kick into. Despite almost half a year of waiting my fancy, shiny new apartment downtown is still not fit for living in. The latest problem? A huge water pipe apparently exploded flooding floors 6 through 9. Or something like that, it involved lots of waters and freak inexplicable accidents keeping me out of my rightful home. Perhaps it's for the best, though, God seems to have a thing against this place. I may be saving myself some heart ache, and perhaps a case of boils, if this whole thing falls apart.

Since I haven't mentioned my own current housing crisis much before let me start at the relative beginning.

A long, long time ago, feels like three years but I guess it was about 9 months, I was in the market for buying a house. I looked around, found some places, my family duly let me know they were terrible places, and so I looked around some more. Finally, I found the greatest place. Unfortunately it was around this time, shortly before starting my work as an intern, that I decided that no, in fact, I did not wish to buy a house. The appeal of free artistic license, spacious guest bedrooms to have family over in, and a backyard to build a garden upon were dshed by the reality that as an intern everything but basic hygiene gets neglected. And so I moved into the base housing. Unfortunately base housing is only free for a month (and apparently my base housing was also home to a family of fearless cockroaches), and so I moved into some friends' place. Josh and Sarah were newly weds, however, and their house was way the hell away from everything so I duly sought out alternative residence number three. That's when I found my good friend, then complete stranger, Laura Gallo. After some brief negotiations she set me up in her second guest bedroom and I was set for the next two to three months.

Or so it was to be. I had found, what I thought at least, would be the apartment equivalent of my previous dream house. The Vistana. "Lofty Living Downtown" their ridiculous and somewhat pretentious advertisement claimed. It was conveniently placed between both hospitals, in a different setting than the suburban wasteland I had been living in for 8 years, and 9 stories up giving me the wonderful sunset view I had long sought after. And all for a fairly reasonable price. Unfortunately my official move in date, mid-October came around and because of the previous spring's epic rains construction was behind schedule. I would be moving in in November. November came and again it was pushed back. Now it was December. December came and that too was wrong. We're going to play it safe and say first week of February. And what happened when the first week of February came around? "Mr. Crabtree, we're sorry but we're going to have to push back the moving date one more time. How does March 6th sound?" "March 6th? My favoritest day, sounds great."

And now we come to February 26th. I had thought maybe March 6th really would be the day. Even started planning renting a moving truck and reboxing my stuff. But now comes a pipe flood and once more I must wait. Current move in date is unknown pending further catastrophe. I am expecting either a zeppelin to broadside the place or a pterodactyl attack. I eagerly await the call.