I've spent most of my online time this last week looking for a new place to live. I've scoured the newspapers (big city and three locals), Craigslist, realtor's websites, and anywhere else Google declares listings to be.

I've spent the last week having people laugh at me. Although it's not to my face, since I'm on the phone, it's still pretty rude. How can you respond to "Are you crazy?" in a polite way? My usual responses, whether acid sarcasm or gentle rebuke, remain unsaid, since, after all, I'm trying to get these people to let us live in their house. Mostly I just wait it out in silence, and then get back to the business at hand - how much deposit, how long a lease, etc.

I've already set the search parameters for more than twice our current rent with no luck. All I get is richer people laughing harder - like they'd rent out their nice executive home to a family with lots of small children!

Sometimes I leave messages, then wait for a call back. I dodge and weave to get to the phone before the voicemail picks up, then desperately try to shake off the small child begging for a drink of milk while covering the mouthpiece. I want the property manager at the other end of the line to think I have the quietest, most perfect children, or at least to not be reminded that children are, well, childish. Then after waiting out the laughter, the disbelief, and the inevitable "this house isn't for you", I hang up and find a drink for all three littlies. And I curse inside at the fridge with the door that only opens halfway due to incredibly poor kitchen planning. And I grumble about the cabinet that won't close all the way and accidentally set my notes in the inevitable pool of water on the countertop from the leaky sink. And then feel guilty for grumbling, because at least it's a place to live, even if I have to jerry-rig a duct tape contraption in order to get the bathtub to drain. And then the phone rings again.

Stop the ride. I'm ready to get off this roller coaster.

Labels: Family Life