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"  Have I mentioned that apartment hunting sucks? Because it does. In hindsight, I probably should have gone with a broker instead of relying on Craig&amp;#039;s List and newspaper classifieds. But it&amp;#039;s just so much money to use a broker -- it would seriously have been more than one month&amp;#039;s rent. It&amp;#039;s like throwing money away. But, as I&amp;#039;m finding now, it would also mean less stress. Not having a place to move into yet, when I have to move the last Saturday of this month, has me having near panic attacks at least twice a day.  I cashed in a personal day today to look at three places I&amp;#039;d lined up. Here are the details of each: Apartment #1: Ad said: Cozy three bedroom with non-working fireplace. Lots of light. EIK. Pets allowed. Non-smoking only.  Sounds good, right? Here&amp;#039;s what it should have said: Claustrophobic two bedroom with extra closet. Easy access to crack cocaine via dealer on the northwest corner. Two broken windows to let light in. Neighbors congregate on fire escape outside filthy kitchen. Thin walls allow occupant to hear upstairs woman threatening husband with dismemberment.  When I said I didn&amp;#039;t think I was interested, the landlord offered to slash the price by $300. He couldn&amp;#039;t have paid me to live there. Shudder. Apartment #2: Ad said: Two bedroom with separate office in great neighborhood. Overlooks courtyard. Pets allowed. Smokers ok.  My take: One large bedroom and one glorified closet very close to -- but not in -- a great neighborhood. Overlooks trash area next to tree. Bathtub in kitchen. Walls discolored from smoke. Foul, vaguely urine-like odor.  As I walked to the third place, my expectations weren&amp;#039;t high. At the same time, though, I still believed that there had to be nice apartments out there somewhere. They couldn&amp;#039;t all be smelly, scary, crack dens, could they? My luck had to change, didn&amp;#039;t it? When I saw the building, I had to double-check the address. It was a beautiful old brownstone building. A woman jogged by with a yellow lab on a leash. A cute dad pushed a baby stroller. There was a Starbucks on the corner. A bit yuppified, sure, but it looked like a nice place to live. I was greeted by the doorman (!), who sent me to the elevator (!) to go to the fifth floor. The elevator smelled like vanilla. The hallway to 5E was clean and well-kept. An older gentleman answered the door to the apartment with a smile. Three normal-sized bedrooms, separate kitchen, French doors between the living room and dining room (!), and a totally tricked out modern kitchen. I was in heaven. &amp;quot;I want to live here,&amp;quot; I told the landlord. &amp;quot;Really badly.&amp;quot; He smiled again, and explained the terms of the lease to my breasts. No, really. He didn&amp;#039;t look up once. I thought, &amp;quot;If all I have to deal with is a little old man ogling when I go to pay my rent, I can deal.&amp;quot; As he explained, it occurred to me that he had placed a misleading ad. HE LIVED IN THE APARTMENT. And was looking for two young, female roommates. Uh, no thanks. Sigh. Back to the drawing board, or in my case, Craig&amp;#039;s List. Please, tell me I&amp;#039;ll find something soon. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a7685/bedroom-blog-121007/>