The Moving Chronicles: How I Made Myself Sick

So we've hired the movers and we're packing boxes but there's one catch - we don't actually have any place to move TO. I mean, not specifically. We know we're targeting Seattle generally. This week's focus: Find A Place to Live That Doesn't Cost a Fortune or, more accurately, How I Made Myself Literally Sick.

The first part was so not my fault. Please indulge me by revisiting my blog titled "

Cancun bust." Remember the warm fuzzy relationship I have with Delta? Well, they've managed to solidify those ties. We were supposed to take a 3:30pm flight on Monday. Delta called at 12:15 and told us that our 3:30 was cancelled and that the only way they could get us to

Seattle that day was if we got to the airport in an hour to catch an earlier flight. So we rushed around like crazy people, had to dig up somebody to come get the dog, scrambled to the airport, and were the last people to board the flight. Whew! Made it! I was chomping on my fingertips in my anxiety, drawing blood, while Tom batted at my hands and said, "Relax! We made it! Smooth sailing from here." Just then the flight attendants went past us - with their luggage. "Haha," said Tom, "they're probably getting off the plane just before the pilot announces the flight is cancelled so we don't kill them. Haha." Yeah, so guess what? About two minutes later the pilot came on and announced the flight was cancelled.

We waited in line at the Delta counter for 2 hours only to find that there is no way we were getting to

Seattle that night. Went back home. Dog was delighted.

Started over again on Tuesday. Flights went fairly smoothly, in that they both took off and landed, and not just that, but they took off and landed where they were supposed to. We were delighted.

Got up bright and early Wed morning and started the Great Search for an Affordable Apartment. The first place we went to had been rented just the day before - while we were fighting with Delta, I'd like to point out. The next place was in the ghetto, literally surrounded by bums. The third place had a great view but was 750 square feet. Now I know I lived in a 400 square foot apt in NYC for 6 years but I've expanded with age, as has the amount of shit I can't live without, plus I've added a husband whose amount of shit he can't live without puts my amount to shame. Now 750 sq ft seems like a prison sentence.

We saw an absolutely adorable turn-of-the-century three-bedroom house... that had no heat. Also the landlord lectured that we had to weed the yard every two weeks. Yeah... homey don't play that. Homey hires other people to play that. Next.

Cute house just a block away from an awesome area of town with fantastic shops and restaurants. Bedrooms the size of postage stamps. Next.

Fabulous apartment building on the same block as aforementioned shops and restaurants. Rents start at $2100 a month. After we finished choking, we told the guy we'd go look in the couch cushions for more money and would be back. I hope he's not still sitting there waiting for us. He must be getting pretty hungry by now.

A smattering of adorable houses in the Queen Anne area which apparently used to be a very popular neighborhood for midgets and dwarfs at the turn of the century, when most of these houses were built, because they are all about 1/3 the size of a normal house. Very small people should note there are some FANTASTIC possibilities for you in this area. For me... not so much.

After two days of apartment-hunting I became steadily more distraught until Thursday afternoon found me sobbing on the streets of Freemont, with a sore throat, sore feet, and the sense of complete hopelessness. Anxiety had kept me up for three nights straight, and the cut-throat pace and pressure of finding a place to live in the three short days we had was too much. I caved. I bawled like a wee bairn.

But then things, as they always do (and as my husband consistently reminds me), perked up, when we discovered a lesser-known neighborhood that is sort of up-and-coming. It reminds me, for those of you familiar with NYC, of the meat-packing district in the 90's, when suddenly, interspersed with the warehouses, were these hoity-toity high-rises where wealthy hipsters were moving in, sloshing through cow blood in their Manohlos. Except without the cow blood, which is nice.

We signed a lease at 5:10 on Thursday, and are only paying $200 a month more than we budgeted. Given that at some points in the search we were seriously considering paying $500 more, I am considering this a big success. Our flights home were also successful in that they took off and landed. Not with our luggage, however. I think Delta's motto should be, "Hey, you can't have everything." But the good news is that the luggage did arrive some hours later and Tom went to the airport to pick them up while I lay in bed, looking and feeling like death.

And this is how I literally made myself sick. And because I am sick, and in bed, this is also why this blog is a mile long. Stay tuned for Episode IV: The Carpet Cleaners. That's gonna be an edge-of-your-seat one, I can just feel it.