I’m a 2012 Olympian

This week I became an Olympian. Does that mean I’m participating in the 2012 London Olympics as the first ginger American paintball sharp shooter? No. They won’t let me in the UK. However, in the spirit of this global sporting year, my new home is the Olympia. I didn’t plan my search as such, but sometimes things just work out that way. I’ve been given the gold–800 square feet of space just for me and my nonexistent furniture.

I began my search for a new home under a week ago. Within that week I found a home, quite quickly in terms of finding an apartment. But still, I have zero patience with the notion that everything doesn’t go my way perfectly the first time around. I can see the emotional cycle of an idea being put into progress and failing or succeeding, which, in itself is rapid:

Stage 1: On loving an apartment – “Oh my God! I’m so happy! This is perfect. It’s only the first one I’ve seen and it’s exactly want.”

Stage 2: On sharing love for an apartment – I call my mother to tell her how excited I am, who listens patiently as she always does: “Mom, it’s perfect!” “How much is it, Emmy?” “It’s worth every penny. It has a unicorn stable, a ball pit, and a gelato maker.”

Stage 3: On waiting to here back from the landlord/subletter – Waiting, waiting, waiting. Tom Petty, you knew what you were talking about, this is the hardest part. I think, Why hasn’t he/she called? I’m the perfect tenant. I’m so charming. Blah blah blah. Did I come on too strong? Did someone else offer more money?

Stage 4: Palpitations of anxiety – I call my mother to tell her how anxious I am, “Mom, why haven’t they told me? They said it was in the bag.” “Em, don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” “Fuck you, mom, and your platitudes. I’ve still looked at a million apartments. But I want that one!” Click.

Stage 5 (Scenario 1): Rejection – I justify. It just wasn’t apartment destiny. Sigh.

Stage 6 (Scenario 1) – I call my mother to apologize.

Stage 5 (Scenario 2): Acceptance! –  I dance, and jump, and tell everyone within a 500 mile radius–thank goodness for Facebook, Twitter, and all other social media platforms to reach an audience who couldn’t care less but in my fictitious world are rejoicing with me.

Stage 6 (Scenario 2) – I call my mother to tell her the news and don’t listen to a thing she has to say because I’m basking in euphoria of getting what I wanted.

This cycle repeats itself until I reach Scenario 5–acceptance. It’s an exhausting process–for both me and my mom. By the end, I’m where I should be. Thankfully, it took under a week.

But damn, tenacity gets it done. And the result? I’m an Olympian.

Home Sweet Home


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