A house is not a home

Major life choices exhaust me. I went out for a couple of hours to do the paperwork on the Mcpartment and I'm ready for bed. I continue to like the vibe of the place. It feels kind of like a hotel. I really like my sales agent. Very interesting young woman. Her grandfather was a diplomat. But I was really fascinated with the visiting agent who was filling in for the day. He was an older guy, at least my age. Really deep tan and really white hair and he couldn't have been more blatantly gay if he had been wearing a sign. I figured it was a good omen.

There were more tenant type people wandering around this time and everyone looks respectable, as they should. The screening process is pretty damn rigourous. I haven't had to come up with this much paper since I opened a bank account in Atlanta. Anyway it's done now. I have a new address. Now all I have to do is every other odious thing that comes with moving. I'm not at all prepared to move. I really hate this part, but I won't think about that today. I'll think about that tomorrow...