Fail. That’s the only way to describe yesterday’s attempt to look at rental properties. I looked at one that could have been workable were it not for a handful of issues that, particularly for me, made it a non-starter. The first would be location. I wasn’t expecting much, but it was worse than I’d imagined. I should have known when the bus driver waited, watched me cross the street, and started walking before continuing his route. I assume that he was considering if I knew where I was. Interestingly, the two blocks just south of 37th Street, especially along Park, are very nice, with million-dollar homes set high and off the street. You wouldn’t think that there’s a crime problem in the area at all. But finding three almost-identical apartment buildings that, from the outside, appear to be barely standing, surrounded by deserted and burned-out buildings at an intersection with a long history of crime was more unnerving than I expected. The distance between 37th Street and 38th, a major through street, is less than 50 yards. The noise level, just normal traffic for 38th Street, couldn’t be sufficiently muted by the buildings.
The wood floors and terrific natural light were wonderful. I might have applied based on that element alone. But neither the bathroom nor the kitchen were functional. They were both too narrow to be workable. ZERO counter space. Apartment-sized appliances, which are more expensive than standard appliances, would have to be purchased and even then one would have to step sideways to get through the kitchen.
Then came the matter of the cats. The ad very clearly states that pets are welcome and doesn’t list any fees. Guess again. A statement from the property management company revealed that each cat would have to be evaluated separately. A background check would be done on both of them before they would be approved, and then there would be a fee assigned for each animal. WHAT THE LIVING FUCK? I’ll ask both the twins, but I’m pretty sure neither of them has a police record, despite the fact that Solaris is guilty of stealing food directly off our plates. And yeah, in the right like I guess Frankie (pictured above) kinda looks like an evil mob boss, but he sleeps 98% of the day. How could he have time to get in trouble? And who the fuck is running these background checks?An outfit called PetScreening.com. The concept is that not all “bully breeds” are bad and deserve a chance. Okay, fine. What CATS are bully breeds? Who the fuck is keeping ANY records on cats other than their veterinarians? Aren’t animals entitled to doctor/patient confidentiality? The whole thing is a money-making scam that gives property managers an additional way to make revenue during the application process.
At the end of the day, with all the fees and having to purchase appliances, it would cost me in excess of $2,000 to move into this rat-hole of an apartment. And with the differences between the ad and the reality, I have to assume that the property managers are not to be trusted. Pet screening? Really? Anyone who would try to push that bullshit past you will also try to raise your rent mid-contract. So, nope. Not considering this property or any other managed by Wilmoth Group. I checked after the fact and Wilmoth Group isn’t even rated, at all, by PropertyManagement.com. I should have checked before responding to the ad. That’s on me.
I took the Red Line back to the Transit Center and walked from there to the salon. Along the way, under the shade of a 12-foot pine on a carefully manicured piece of right-of-way, a homeless woman was sleeping under a light blanket. The shade was dark enough that I almost didn’t see her, which I’m sure was what made the spot attractive. She didn’t appear to be very old. She obviously wasn’t in a very safe place. My heart sank.
By the time I made it to the salon, my body was done. I was shaking, stumbling, and having issues with the bumps in the sidewalk even with my cane. Kat got me something to eat and brought me home. That was the end of my day. I went to bed except for making cheese fries that no one ate. I was nauseous. My head was pounding. I was dizzy and partially incoherent. I can’t keep doing this. I have to find another way to search.
I don’t expect much to happen today. I’m still exhausted and my head is spinning even as I type. I feel safe being right next to the bed, carefully guarded by the pups and the twins. It saddens me that I can’t take the pups with me. They need a fenced yard, though. There’s no way my grip is strong enough to safely take them out on a leash. They have no clue that any change is coming.
There are thoughts on other issues as well, but my head will have to put pieces together better than it currently is for me to verbalize those.
There has to be a better way to live.