The era of Ariel is about to come to a close. Though we signed a year lease, Ariel has chosen to seize an opening on the miles-long waiting list for one of the hot new apartment buildings downtown and abandon our rules and regulations. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to leave a decaying house occupied by two other women and two cats, to live a very chic life alone in a loft with a spiral staircase. It’s beyond me but her choices are hers alone so all I can do is adapt. I use my snark to hide my jealousy. Obvi.
The scramble to find a sub-leaser who was both capable of moving in two weeks’ time and not completely psychotic was indeed a scramble. We started first with those we knew. That quickly fizzled as the three of us realized if we wanted to live with any of our friends, we probably would have done that and not met each other via Craigslist 7 months ago. So we put our faith in the glory of Craigslist once again and hoped for a miraculous repeat. I crafted a delightful ad that showcased the awesomeness of us remaining two and waited for the responses to trickle in.
As it turns out, the amount of people desperate for a sub-leasing situation is extremely high. I was inundated with emails and texts (and phone calls, even though my ad expressly forbid them) from every possible type of human. There was the 40-something divorced man who needed a place to stay as he worked through this new and depressing chapter of his life. There was the girl who assured me she was looking for a mature and drama-less situation even though I checked with a fortuitous mutual Facebook friend and learned the opposite was true. There was the 30-something single father who wanted to move himself and his 9-year old son into a house of two single women. There were countless 18-20 year olds who were super jazzed about living near downtown and who were really looking forward to putting their tips from serving coffee to good use. There was nobody, really. A ton of nobody. Until there was somebody.
We were lucky enough to hear from a woman who had a moving-out timeline that fit our schedule exactly, and who was able to survive a conversation with Jasmine and myself for at least two hours. We touched on all the major topics: religion, the possibility of doing Pinterest projects, thoughts on Brunch, ability to withstand the filthy and sometimes shocking sentences that come out of Jasmine’s mouth. It was a fit. We pulled the trigger and this sub-leaser (who has yet to pick her pseudonym) is moving in this weekend. Unfortunately, not everything in this world goes as smoothly as I’d prefer, so instead of having Ariel move out, and me into her (giant) bedroom before new girl comes into our lives, we’re all going to exist together until Ariel’s new apartment is ready, sometime in the next ten days or so.
We’ll see how it goes. New girl will have the opportunity to see the shoes she has to fill as Ariel sets up shop on the couch. She’ll see the true void that will be left in the wake of Ariel, who regularly ad libs loudly to power ballads when she thinks nobody else is home. Ariel, who is genuinely excited to see us when we get home, like a well-makeuped puppy. Ariel, who can’t tread lightly or close a cupboard to save her life, but whose energy and willingness to day-drink with me will be missed. New girl has some high heels to fill, but I think we’ll get along just fine if we fine-tune our dynamic a bit.
If it doesn’t work out, I could always give the divorcee a call. I’m sure a predatory yet depressed male figure would be exactly what young Jasmine needs around the house. I assume I’d be safe.