At least I found an apartment.

I haven't gotten the official approval yet, but since I'm not sweating the credit check, I'm pretty sure this is where I'll be living. It's a one bedroom downstairs unit, with a roomy living room and decent kitchen. It's a spanish style building with all doors opening into the little middle courtyard. The courtyard has a pool, a fountain, a BBQ area and (most importantly) lots of trees and plants. It has a friendly, tucked in sort of feel to it, like a small tiled square in a spanish town that you stumbled upon by accident. It smells vaguely of stale cigarette smoke, but for $675 you can't have everything. I liked the manager. He had a beagle named 'Freud'. That's my kind of neighbor. And my address will be pretty, South Magnolia Ave. Is it silly that I care about that? I'm so loathe to give up Van Horn Way. It makes me think of the character Gretchen Van Horn from the movie 'Sabrina', a young socialite from Long Island. And Magnolia Ave. makes me think of a southern lady with thick curly hair, who throws balls and writes letters a lot, on heavy, scented paper. I think I'll create a little nook by the window specifically for writing letters. But my hair will never be curly. My hair looks upon curling irons and laughs. The only kink that my hair will take is that weird line from the hairtie when I put it in a ponytail.