In addition to freelancing this weekend (I will be so happy when people stop dying and/or the Obvious Big Awards Show deadline for death is reached), Seth and I continued our quixotic search for a new place to live.

The requirements are, we thought, not that big a deal, especially since I just recently decided that I don’t care if I live in Silverlake anymore.  I’m not completely sick of it, but I’m pretty close.  A friend of a friend suggested we look downtown, and this friend of a friend got on the phone with me and talked me into it.  She was very persuasive.  I’m glad she wasn’t trying to sell me Amway, I totally would sold my soul.

So I did some Craigslist hunting, got drunk at a downtown diner, and we went open house-ing.

The first place we saw was Penthouse 10.  I immediately fell in love.   It was three stories, open floor plan, had a private rooftop deck that was two stories, it was way below what we are spending now, and it was quite possibly the closest thing I’ve seen in real life to where I imagined fancy rich people who lived in cities would live.  It was that good.  We also looked at Penthouse 8.  Identical to Penthouse 10, except it was 80 square feet smaller and $285 cheaper.  I don’t understand downtown.  I mean, they’re basically giving these places away.

We were discouraged by the lack of parking in the building, so we went down the street to another open house and I almost threw up we were up so high.  I took a picture of the roof of my dream house from the roof of the vomit tower.

The Roof of Barbie's Dream House

Then I slowly backed away from the edge and wiped the sweat off my palms.

We spent two hours in Penthouse 8 and Penthouse 10.  I was sold.  We were approved.  Then we went home and started talking about living downtown and how walking Lula alone at night might be sketchy and how we loved the space but it might not actually be big enough to contain all the shit we’ve both accumulated in our lives.  It was sad.   I might have cried.

Then this morning I told Seth I didn’t care, I wanted to live there and if they would agree to let us move in on the 15th for half month’s rent that month, I wanted to do it.  So, we put in our offer.  And we were shot down.

So, here I am, thinking about that rooftop deck and all the parties I won’t have there.  Whatever.  *sniff*

At least we had sex in there, so we know what that’s like.