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Apartment-hunting record:
Apartment 1
Neighbourhood: "The pocket"—Jones and Gerrard-ish (nice and close!)
Level: Basement.
Bike storage: Backyard, probably
Rent: $900 incl.
Landlords: Seemed sane and cool
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2 (Not ideal, as I'd prefer not to work in my living area, but manageable)
Verdict: Applied, haven't heard from landlords; they probably went with someone else.
Apartment 2
Neighbourhood: Little India on a cul-de-sac
Level: Basement.
Bike storage: None
Rent: $750 incl.
Landlords: Seemed nice enough
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2
Verdict: AUGH. Filthy. Ceilings low. All chopped into weird-sized rooms. Kitchen tiny. NOT A CHANCE. Left quickly.
Apartment 4
Neighbourhood: If you're a developer or real-estate agent, this is "Upper Beaches North." If you're a normal person, this area north of Danforth between Woodbine and Main doesn't really have a name.
Level: Basement
Bike storage: Landlord will build a wee enclosure by the entrance
Rent: $750 incl
Landlords: NICEST PEOPLE EVER. They made me tea! They promised to build me a bike enclosure.
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2 (kitchen and living area)
Verdict: Sigh. I wish I could be happy there, but I'm not tall and the ceiling height made me miserable. The kitchen was tiny with a foot of counter space. The entire apartment had three tiny windows. The landlords were super-nice, and I wish I could rent a different apartment from them, but this place would make me sad.
So, unless I hear from the landlord of #1 or #3, I'm still looking for either an apartment or a roommate who can move into Dictionopolis.
I purely hate this. I hate learning what some landlords consider fit for people to live in—I know people typically don't rent out apartments out of the goodness of their hearts, but I wouldn't let someone I despised live in the first place. I hate feeling like I'm being auditioned for a place to live and knowing that there are people with full-time jobs who want the same apartment that I want and look like better tenants on paper. I hate not knowing where I'm going to move to or when I'm going to move. And of course I hate the thought of packing everything, moving everything, and trying to make everything fit into a new place.
Sigh. Okay. Tantrum over.
Next step: 12-page co-op applications, plus continued phone tag with other landlords. Also, e-mail Landlords #4, and tell them I can't rent their place, even though I'd love to go cycling with them sometime.
Apartment 1
Neighbourhood: "The pocket"—Jones and Gerrard-ish (nice and close!)
Level: Basement.
Bike storage: Backyard, probably
Rent: $900 incl.
Landlords: Seemed sane and cool
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2 (Not ideal, as I'd prefer not to work in my living area, but manageable)
Verdict: Applied, haven't heard from landlords; they probably went with someone else.
Apartment 2
Neighbourhood: Little India on a cul-de-sac
Level: Basement.
Bike storage: None
Rent: $750 incl.
Landlords: Seemed nice enough
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2
Verdict: AUGH. Filthy. Ceilings low. All chopped into weird-sized rooms. Kitchen tiny. NOT A CHANCE. Left quickly.
Apartment 4
Neighbourhood: If you're a developer or real-estate agent, this is "Upper Beaches North." If you're a normal person, this area north of Danforth between Woodbine and Main doesn't really have a name.
Level: Basement
Bike storage: Landlord will build a wee enclosure by the entrance
Rent: $750 incl
Landlords: NICEST PEOPLE EVER. They made me tea! They promised to build me a bike enclosure.
Number of rooms (excluding bathroom): 2 (kitchen and living area)
Verdict: Sigh. I wish I could be happy there, but I'm not tall and the ceiling height made me miserable. The kitchen was tiny with a foot of counter space. The entire apartment had three tiny windows. The landlords were super-nice, and I wish I could rent a different apartment from them, but this place would make me sad.
So, unless I hear from the landlord of #1 or #3, I'm still looking for either an apartment or a roommate who can move into Dictionopolis.
I purely hate this. I hate learning what some landlords consider fit for people to live in—I know people typically don't rent out apartments out of the goodness of their hearts, but I wouldn't let someone I despised live in the first place. I hate feeling like I'm being auditioned for a place to live and knowing that there are people with full-time jobs who want the same apartment that I want and look like better tenants on paper. I hate not knowing where I'm going to move to or when I'm going to move. And of course I hate the thought of packing everything, moving everything, and trying to make everything fit into a new place.
Sigh. Okay. Tantrum over.
Next step: 12-page co-op applications, plus continued phone tag with other landlords. Also, e-mail Landlords #4, and tell them I can't rent their place, even though I'd love to go cycling with them sometime.
