Instead, let me share a little of my real-estate-related tumult.
I've spent the last couple of days freaking out about how I'll just never be able to afford what I really want-- a cute place INSIDE the district with enough kitchen storage to contain my duly appointed Hopeless Chest, enough closet space to contain countless pairs of fuck-me shoes, and a second bedroom that I can partition off -- half to be a Room of My Own for writing, the other half to be a plot on which I might set up my easel and dream of painting again (a thing I have not done for 5 years, yet sorely miss). I make more money now than I ever thought I would. Amusingly, I'm considered to be on the very, very low end of "moderate income" for this area. Legend has it that DC is not a cheap city. Legend is right. The problem with being a yuppie is that, while you may be young and professional, you are still upwardly mobile-- as opposed to being upwardly situated. Hence, there is always an anxiety that you're going to fall on your ass. And upon such a fall, you'll discover that your ass landed in the poor house.
I've had a couple false starts with realtors, too. Though the first two were doubtlessly quite nice and nicely qualified, I felt the chemistry to be off. They were both extremely extroverted, let's say. When faced with a very chatty person, I tend to get a little wild-eyed and rabbity, looking for my opportunity to bolt. But my brother, a realtor in Tucson, set me up with Jo-Ann. Within the first few sentences on the phone, we'd already established that my boss is a good friend of hers. I believe in signs, sure. I think the universe is constantly trying to communicate its grand order to us-- it's just that most of us are too pigheaded and cynical to catch on when it's happening. That my brother, from across the country, hooked me up with a person from whom I was already only separated by a degree I took as Sign #1.
Today, Jo-Ann and I went looking at properties for the first time.
The first place we saw, I liked quite a lot. I'd found it on the internet. I already knew I'd like it. i was right. Nice neighborhood, nice, newly re-done building, cute place -- on the steep end of my price range, though, and weirdly, they designed this pretty, brand new kitchen and didn't put in a dishwasher. No dishwasher? What do I look like,
The second place was enormous. I couldn't even believe I was looking at something so massive in DC proper and thinking it even remotely within my price range. Again, it was nicely refurbished with two HUGE bedrooms-- and all the storage a girl could dream to have. But it was in a pretty scrubbly little 'hood. Jo-Ann kept raising her eyebrows. Not a good sign.
The third place was a very commercial development right across the street from some uber-sketch, burnt-out looking houses. Inside, the units were... nice. So nice as to approach sterility, one might say. And the kitchen. Good god. Very fancy-looking with all stainless appliances and granite counters and all that... but there was the sink, then a stretch of countertop, then the stove and THEN the dishwasher. I wondered aloud (impolitely, I'm sure, as the builder's representative was standing right there) what kind of idiot doesn't know to design a kitchen with the dishwasher right next to the sink? He said, "Well, clearly, the designer wasn't a woman." I said, "You don't have to be a woman to know it's retarded to put the dishwasher and the sink on opposite sides of the stove. All you have to be is not stupid." I don't think he was amused.
It had been sprinkling through the sun for an hour or so when we came out of the third place. The fourth place was really just around the corner from the third, but the neighborhood was like a different world. As Jo-Ann and I were sitting in the car discussing, I looked up and saw not one, but two full-arc rainbows through the windshield. Jo-Ann said something about how the spirits much be conspiring (thus confirming all the more that she and I are on the same page) and what could I do? I assumed the rainbows were Sign #2.
The fourth place was really very lovely. It's in a smaller building with just 6 units. The unit itself is modest but has a smartly designed kitchen (with the dishwasher in the RIGHT place) and two small bedrooms-- one for sleeping and one for writing. Interestingly, it is also the cheapest of all the places I saw today. It wasn't perfect-- it doesn't have much closet space. But it has lovely light filtering through trees and rich, dark wood floors. It felt... I don't know... alive and breath-ful in there. Peaceful, even.
When we emerged, the rainbows were even brighter than before.
We had one place left to see. I'd found this place on the internet and, though it's distinctly out of my price range-- oh, my god. Here-- follow this link-- watch the video yourself. Truthfully, this condo is the most beautiful place in which I could ever imagine myself living. The kitchen is all done up in eco-friendly, industrial-esque materials. Several walls are this incredible old-style exposed brick. The place is even more gorgeous in real life than it is in the video. They say never fall in love with a property -- even if you're pretty sure it's the one to buy. And though I do think this one is incredibly impressive I can honestly say that I'm not in love with it. I see why property #5 costs $45G more than property #4-- and it all boils down to style. Is style worth $45 G to me?
Let me put it this way: property #5 is like Peta Wilson -- sleek, stylish, icy and cat-like.
Property #4 is more like Catalina Sandino Moreno, maybe -- beautiful still, but less intimidatingly so. Also, graceful. 
I have two more properties to see-- and my current lease doesn't run out until September, so I have plenty more time to look.
But somehow, I have a hunch that it'll boil down to this: do I want to extend my budget beyond its comfortable contraints to live in Peta Wilson? Or am I not more well-suited to Catalina-style in the first place?
Sign #3 is sure to lead the way. I'm expecting it around any corner now.
