Apartment hunting is an annoying, annoying task. You spend time and money to get yourself half-way across the city to scope out an apartment… only to be greeted by a really stubborn lock that required a coating of WD40 to open. And if that wasn’t enough, greeting you within that apartment is a nice dead mouse.
“Yeah, I don’t think this place is for me.”
Which was too kind of a thing to say.
By suburban standards, the area was ghetto. But by more urban standards, it had “character”. It was an area of contrasts. An area right on the border between lower-income residences and hipster loft spaces. Granted, all big cities have such contrasts — but having lived my life in the suburbs, I have not experienced such sudden changes in landscape. In the ten minute walk to the train station, I walked from a rat and roach infested apartment to a hip warehouse space containing new media companies and freaking Nelvana studios.
I really need to get out of the suburbs.