I think I've finally found an apartment, which is clearly sub-par to my current place, but it's kind of like comparing Jennifer Anniston and Angelina Jolie. Both are nice, but dude.
I'm still pretty freaked out, though. Mostly just because moving blows, but also because I'm pretty sure that the new place is haunted. We went in to look at it with the manager, and she kept making this fuss about how the lady that lived there before had been there for eight years . This got me thinking:
Me: So, why did the [skank] that lived here for so long move out?
Manager: Hmm. I don't know.
Me: *pause* Well, she didn't die in here, did she?
Manager: *even longer pause* Um. I don't...know. It's happened before. We have a lot of elderly people here.
Me: *shits pants*
So great. I get to be roomies with the ghost of an old biddy. I hope she like, clips coupons for me and knits cute stuff instead of scaring the ass out of me. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to have a super sweet excorcism party in lieu of a housewarming shindig.
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