lesa

It's been 4 days.

I have been miserable waiting for word on this apartment we found on Sunday. I've done nothing of import at the office since I saw it. Nothing matters to me at home but keeping my mind busy, yet not too thoughtful. Doing everything I can to maintain sanity. Finding small, unsatisfying, and temporary distractions here and there just trying to stop thinking about that perfect kitchen, the amazing neighborhood, the evenings Brian and I would spend entertaining close friends, and laughing with each other over the silly antics of our cats. Why does this have to be so hard? Why did that place have to be so perfect? Why does that thread of possibility, that shimmer of hope that we might still get a phone call tomorrow with an offer have to still exist?

I hate moments when I know that my fate and part of my future and my happiness are at the mercy of a decision yet to be made by someone else. I haven't felt this way since over 4 years ago, when I was begging my ex-boyfriend to give what I thought we still had just one... last... chance. Thankfully, we did give up that ghost, thinking back. But oh how badly I wanted it then. And how badly I want this to happen now. This opportunity to begin our lives in a place that is as close to our own as it can get.

You see, this place is part of a large house. It seems that the owners are new to the manager thing, and they have just purchased the property that their own house sits on, and have split the Craftsman-style space into two individual units, both with a very homey, cottage feel to them. There is only one other space under renovation, in the back. That will be a third apartment and a decidedly smaller one. The one half of the house in front of it is the place I have such a huge, terribly painful crush on. I knew the moment we walked up the driveway that this was the place I wanted to share my first years with Brian as his wife. Even he's excited about it. But not nearly as much as I am. In fact, he knows I'll be crushed if we don't get the place, but even being turned down would be easier than this awful waiting.

The owners - a young, very vibrant and friendly couple - are doing all of the hard work themselves. All of it. So admirable. From the landscaping to the plumbing, everything about this place is going to be entirely new. We were given the tour of the space - large livingroom, bright bedroom with huge closet covering one full wall, completely gutted bathroom (you could see the earth beneath the currently absent floorboards), the beautiful, rich wood floors, soothing periwinkle blue kitchen with incredible amounts of storage - and my heart was racing the entire time. I kept looking over my shoulder at Brian mouthing the words "It's perfect!" and "Oh my God!". I knew I must have looked like a wide-eyed little girl in a shoppe filled from floor to ceiling with Barbie dolls.

We walked through the place three full times, listening to our prospective neighbor tell us how this would look when it was done, or the plans they had for that. I was enamoured immediately, and I assured her that we would return the applications before the day was over. We did. Ever since getting into the car with chills covering both of my arms (and it was NOT cold outside), I have been mooning over that place, thinking about buying pretty bathroom tiles and kitchen decor and a clawfoot bathtub to go with the pedestal sink and how I would paint the bedroom, right down to planning colors and trim. As blissful as this may sound to some, and as painfully boring as it is to others, this has been pure torture for me.

I want to move SO badly, in fact, that pretty much ANY other place would do (as long as it's nicer than ours), but this place spoke to me. Meanwhile, I sit and wait for the phone to ring as I hear yet another traffic accident occur on the boulevard outside of our current place. The accidents are so frequent that I am sure several people are hospitalized per month. It's fucking ridiculous that nothing has been done to remedy the traffic situation on a residential street like this. But that is Los Angeles for you. They can shut down the Griffith Park Observatory and spend millions on renovating that, but they can't see the point in spending a few thousand to install just two more stoplights to slow these fucking shitheads down so they will stop slamming into each other in front of our house. Disgusting. I guess the observatory will be the thing that brings in money. What are human lives worth anyway, right? Certainly not the repeated price of admission to a Hollywood landmark.

I am so fucking miserable right now.

Make it stop! Please LET ME HAVE THAT PHONE CALL BEFORE THIS DAY ENDS!