This apartment was part of a large assembly of apartments, where, off to a safe corner, was a first floor management office. The gentleman showing us the place was the epitome of "Eh, I tried," and admittedly is probably showing low-scale apartments because the selling used cars thing never went through.
As it is really Matt who is renting the apartment, I resolved to be very very quiet during the initial meeting. We sat down in front of Mr. No Fuss and he began to ask us questions. We were two questions in when Matt turned to me to have me answer. Suddenly, I was the girl with all the answers. Mr. No Fuss wouldn't even look at Matt anymore. The attention suddenly on me, I felt compelled to ask questions.
"What's the pet policy?"
"$350 a year down, $30 a month."
"What about... another pet?"
"How many pets are you planning to have? Like me? I have a zoo. Three dogs, a bird, two snakes, hamsters..."
"....I am thinking less, than that."
"Just don't tell us about another dog."
Using the same amount of pressure you would need in a hose to wash a fly off a car, Mr. No Fuss brought us into the apartment. I completely forgot to take pictures, but using my elite artistic abilities I have rendered a DaVinci-esque drawing of Matt and I surveying the living room, capturing all angles and the entire framework of the place:
That's me on the left, in case your untrained eye couldn't tell. It was small. At 675 sq ft it defied all logic but appearing smaller than the apartment I live in now, which is actually much smaller. I think it was the layout. Upon opening the door you walked right into the dining room/living room combo.
"Hi everyone, so nice to -- oh sorry, I tripped over your plate, there... whoops."
There was minimal closet space and the bedroom, though nicely nestled in the back of the apartment, had a view of a garbage dumpster or something else large, metal, and unappealing. Mr. No Fuss gave us a less than stellar pitch. Matt's theory is that Mr. No Fuss was very much aware of the apartment, and was not going to really try to give a spit shine to it. "Eh, this is it."
The cherry on top of the display was when we exited. I saw a large orange cat lounging in the brutal sun on the steps of the next door apartment.
Me: Oh look, a cat! Aw!
Mr. No Fuss: Oh yeah... the old lady who lived here before used to feed them. We had tons. Most left, but there's still a lot hanging around! Heh.
I waited for the "Oh, sh*t!" look to cross his face, but it never did.
On the way home Matt and I comprised a list of Pros & Cons, discussing our findings. Although numerically the list seems even, there is a certain weight to each item.
** Matt noticed this, I did not. I’ve had a cold for a while now, though, so it is possible I just didn’t detect it. It provoked conversation:
* Matt claims this may be a Pro, because he would hate to be the noisy neighbor who lived above others. However, since I am writing this, and care much more about being annoyed than being annoying, I’m putting this on the cons list.
Me: What do you mean you smell Indian food? You've never had Indian food.
Matt: I just do. I know what it smells like. It is an unmistakable smell.
I wonder if Indian families ever have these concerns. "Ugh, we live above an American family. All we smell is cheese, meat, and beer all day."
So, to summarize: Cozy, Cats, Curry.