Oh but there's more. Isn't there always more? Here is Part 3 and I promise you that someday when I have a place to live, I will stop writing about apartments and roommates and realtors and get back to the more interesting mundanities of life.

The realtor showed us a few places and one of them was what can only be deemed a swinging 70's pad. I can't exactly explain why. Was it the pink lighting in the entry way giving off the vibe that we were about to enter a swinging nightclub? Was it the rectangular cut outs in the wall designed exclusively for plants to be hung? Was it the cavernous size of the roller-rink remniscent living room? Or was it the round shape of the bedrooms? The funky chandelier hanging in the dining room? The bathroom's bright orange toilet and matching bidet? It was all of that and more. And I fell in love with it. It was cute and quirky, but I am cute and quirky, so I felt that the apartment loved me right back. We were made for each other. Heck, we were both created in the 70's. I imagined myself living there and it felt so right. Groovy man, far out.

Wait... hear that? It's the scratching sound that happens when the needle is pulled rapidly across a disco record and the music stops. The other two girls did not like the apartment. They wanted something more modern. That should've raised a red flag right there. I mean, if you can't love the fabulousness of an offbeat apartment then you and I might not be a good roommate match after all. To be continued...  ¶ 4:30 PM