Last week Steve flew across the country, where he labored nobly and alone to the dispiriting tune of
Oh, what a lovely house! Oh, it's already rented. Oh, what a lovely
house! Oh, no cats. Oh, what a lovely place! Oh, it's only available
starting immediately. Oh, what a lovely house, aside from the
incredible hideousness. Oh, what a lovely apartment! What a pity that
it is the horrid one which is actually for rent. Oh, what a lovely
apartment! How unfortunate that it has no kitchen. Oh, what a lovely
house! I will wait to hear back from the landlord... forever. And so on.
He phoned and we worried together that his expensive trip would be pointless. Landlords were generating creepy scammer vibes, and demanding deposits in cash. Perhaps we would be so lucky as to NOT ONLY fail to secure a place to live, but ALSO be ripped off for thousands of dollars!
"How would you describe the state of your house hunt?"
"Sisyphean. Gloomy. Overcast and ominous."
Then a stack of books fell on my head. Morale was low.
Twenty minutes after Steve had hung up, he emailed me. "Tomorrow will be a brighter day!" he lied.
Then, all expectations to the contrary, it wasn't a lie, after all. Well, here it was not so bright; it was very wet, and my main entertainment for the day was to get caught in a rainstorm with an infant strapped to my chest, with no umbrella, while shopping for a toothbrush. But there, Steve found us a house.