So, after six months of waiting to move, and three months of monitoring Craigslist, the third apartment I walk into (and apartment #2 was in the same building) turns out to be it. I sign the lease on Monday.

Despite the horror stories other people tell, I've had pretty good luck apartment hunting in the city. I think it's because I'm picky, but I'm not too picky. For instance, New Apartment is in an older building, and the floors aren't all new and shiny, and there's that dinginess around the edges that comes from too many layers of paint, but it's big. How big? Big for Oklahoma(the living room in particular is about the size of the one in the house I grew up in), which means in Brooklyn it's practically a penthouse. And the building itself is this neat gothicky looking architecture with cool tiling in the interior (the hallways are really well maintained, a vast improvement on the paint-stained lineoleum at Old Apartment). Oh, and did I mention it has an elevator?

Now look, I've gone completely off course with the argument I was going to make. Emm and Lala are sick of me babbling about it already. I guess that's how I know I've picked the right one. And, honestly, finding the place was the worst part. Compared to the six days I had in which to pack and move last time, this move will feel downright leisurely.