House hunting

The people you meet, eh?  On Monday I went to look at a room described as "beautiful, huge, limestone floors, fireplace, glass doors opening onto back garden" - sounds great.  The reality was less appealing; while the description was not inaccurate (apart from 'beautiful' but I guess that's in the eye of the beholder) it was somewhat misleading.  The room was not designed as a bedroom, but a family/living room at the back of the house.  I suppose you could make it cosy, but it looked cold to me.  The house is also occupied by a single mother and her 6 year old daughter, a young guy who works as a security guard, and a dog.  The woman and the young guy seemed like nice, friendly people, the dog sweet-natured and the girl a typical lively child demanding her mother's attention.  It was relaxed in a way, but chaotic.  I had to say no. 

Yesterday afternoon I checked out an apartment in a groovy location near the NoHo arts district; the building was modern, with a sparkling swimming pool in a central courtyard and a small gym.  The apartment is called a 3-bedroom, but the 3rd bedroom would work better as an office as it is quite small, with very limited closet space and is right off the somewhat cramped living room and kitchen area.  Upstairs were the other two bedrooms, slightly larger and sharing a balcony.  Quite nice.  Tiny bathroom.  The downstairs room is available immediately, one of the upstairs rooms likely to become available next month.  It's currently occupied by a girl who's boyfriend lives nearby and is paying her rent.  It seems he wants her close at hand, but not technically living with him.  The room seems barely occupied, furnished only with a lamp (necessary, since few rooms in L.A. have ceiling lights) and an inflatable mattress.  Having slept on one of those for about three weeks when I first arrived in L.A., I can tell you that they're more comfortable than the floor but that's it.  My back was not a fan.  The woman who showed me around is called Michael.  When I spoke to her on the phone, I envisaged a Janeane Garofalo type; the person who met me at the door was a neurotically thin, bleach-blonde woman of indeterminate age who apppeared to have recently had an eye-lift (she had identical red marks at the corners of both eyelids) and probably some lip-enhancement.  There was something decidedly unnatural about her appearance.  She talked non-stop in her throaty, assertive twang, telling me about the casting agency she is developing called HotGirlfriendsLA.  Seriously.  Sounds like an escort agency, I said.  She agreed, but assured me it's not, they provide models and other beautiful girls for TV shows (like Deal or No Deal, Entourage and, apparently, Adam Sandler films - "Adam Sandler loves us," she said) and various parties and events.  So it kind of is like an escort agency, but with less promise of sex.  Michael also dabbles in writing and acting. She seemed like someone who might be fun to hang out with once in a while, and is pretty well connected, but would be less fun to live with, especially in an apartment with such small living areas.  That one has to be a No, also. 

So, the swimsuit model I met on Monday afternoon is top of the list so far.  Wait, did I tell you about her?  No, I didn't, my last blog was written Sunday night.  Ok, so after visiting the House of Chaos, I checked out a two-bedroom townhouse owned by a Jamaican swimsuit model.  Yep, compare the two of us and we look like entirely different species.  Anyway, she's owned this place for 6 years, and has decorated it beautifully.  There's a huge difference between rental properties and those lived in by the owner.  The bedroom windows are arched - very pretty - and there is a balcony, sizable kitchen and comfortable living area.  It's a little further north in the Valley than Sherman Oaks, but not crazily so, and she's asking a very reasonable rent.  I have some hesitation living with the landlord, but all up it looks like a great deal.

Meanwhile, Emily and I have a girl staying with us this week, sleeping on the couch.  Sabea is a nice girl in her 20s, an actress who lives in Seattle and is in LA this week meeting with agents etc and contemplating making a permanent move.  This afternoon I came home from the supermarket to discover the two girls rearranging the living room to create an office area in one corner for Emily.  It's a big room, so there is comfortable space, but I asked Emily about how well she would concentrate working there if the TV was on. 

Emily: Oh, I won't have the TV on when I'm working.
Me: But what if your roommate is watching it?
Emily: Well, I'll get a roommate who is out all day working, so it won't really be a problem.
Me: But sometimes you'll be working in the evening too, if you're teaching during the day.
Emily: Well, yeah, I suppose.

I thought to myself, wow, here's another example of her thinking only of her own needs and not considering others.  I wonder if she'll charge less rent to the next person, since she's effectively taking more room in the apartment now (as if the cats didn't already take up space)?  I suspect she won't.  Boy, I'm glad I already decided to move out because this would really piss me off.