Apparently, one-bedroom apartments are hard to come by in the area I'm looking. Super-L to save the day (again).
"I wanna move to the city."
"I know. It won't cost me any more than it is right now to live out here and fill my tank up twice a week."
"If you say so."
"Yeah. Don't move to the city."
"I'm doing it, L."
"Fine. So do it. But come stay with me for a few months, first... see how you like it, put a little money back in case something happens with the house."
So that's where we are. I've been camping out in suburbia for the past three weeks, occupying L's spare room and generally trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Aside from the awkward, "You're living with him, but you two aren't dating?" questions I get grilled with from friends and co-workers, so far, so good (I think). The commute's a hell of a lot easier on me, and I can look at places at my leisure, which is a definite bonus.
After that concert a few weeks back, L's been playing the opening band pretty much non-stop. There isn't much funnier than watching a 40-something suburbanite rock out to indie-pop. Funniest part by far is that they have a song called "Girl Roommate". Say it with me, now:
"My roommate's a girl; she puts me through hell.
When I tripped on love, she never fell.
My roommate's a girl; I can tell you, the fun never ends.
My roommate's a girl; she's my very best friend."
(Girl Roommate, Anything but Joey)