We never felt like we were poor, until our kitchen ceiling collapsed.

Suddenly we found ourselves in the position of potential renters.  We were deep into classified ads, rental applications and phone call after phone call to potential landlords.

It always ended the same though.  "We'll give you a call"

We were good people.  We paid our rent on time always and took care of our apartments.  We never moved out without proper notice and we were generally good to get along with. Bad tenants are people who roll up the new sod you just put down and sell it to the people down the street or the ones who take money off their rent to paint and end up painting around a bed so after they move the wall is not painted behind where the bed was.

but neither of us were employed, and that makes it pretty near impossible to rent an apartment.

We were on the Ontario Disability Support Program at the time because R. had cancer and his employer was not able to accommodate to his illness, specifically his PICC line.  Even though neither of us had a job, we never really felt poor.  Looking back now, I wonder how we managed to live off such a small income, but we managed by being thrifty and we really didn't go anywhere or do anything so that saved a lot of money.  Our dates pretty much consisted of trips to chemo treatment.

Looking for an apartment while on Disability was never easy.  You would think having a couple on a disability income would be a blessing because they have a steady set income, it really wasn't that easy to get potential landlords to see it that way. 

R. used to tell me each time, "don't get your heart set on this place".  He was right because each time I fell in love with an apartment, we got the same finishing line "we'll give you a call".  The only time we were able to rent somewhere successfully was when the landlords turned out to be understanding, or they knew us, or they knew a friend of a friend. Luckily we only had to look for an apartment two times the whole time we were together, but it was never easy.

After R. died I had to move out of our apartment because the building was sold and the tenants were asked to move.  Luckily R's mother was moving out of her apartment and recommended me to her landlords and I was able to live there without having to apply, as I still was unemployed at this point.

Then that house was sold and I was forced to move again, but this time my mom came along with me.  I had finished school and was now employed in my full-time job and I couldn't believe how easy it was for us to get an apartment.

and now I am looking for an apartment again.

Which is really scary because I am completely alone now.  My mom moved 2 hours away, as did my brother.  I have no other family here and now I am having to find an apartment, all by myself, something I could have never imagined myself doing.

Then I made a mistake.  I set my heart on an apartment I wanted (and I mean as set as the beetle buying incident set).  The day I looked at it I knew this was my apartment.  Right beside Mason's daycare, behind his school, beautiful older building with character, a balcony that I can sit out on and watch the trees sway in the wind (I'm weird), a swimming pool, a superbly nice building manager and affordable.  All those things were nice and all, but I really knew the apartment was mine when I looked out on the balcony and saw a little statue of a Beetle on the railing.  I know that sounds weird, but it was like a sign to me.

Then came the dreaded application part where the superbly nice building manager lady informed me that a young couple had just applied for MY apartment before I got there.


but persistent.

After more inquiry, I learned that this couple had not yet turned in the required deposit for the apartment, in fact they hadn't even filled out the entire application or given the proper paperwork as of yet.  So I took an application, I got the money (thanks Terry and Mommy!) and the required paperwork and I was determined to get this apartment.


I realized that the other couple would more than likely have a dual income, and I hesitated even applying for fear of rejection.  I remembered how it felt all those times we were not called back for places I had my heart set on.  I felt defeated and I hadn't even tried yet. Then I cried, and then Mason asked me if I was crying because the guinea pig bit me, and then I laughed.


I decided to apply anyway.  I would have to apply for apartments sooner or later anyway, even though I felt like I had a disadvantage since my income would quite obviously be lower than the other applicants as they were a couple. 

The superbly nice building manager called the other applicants to let them know I intended on applying as well and they would have to bring in the rest of their application and deposit in order to still be eligible for the apartment.  and they did.  Shit. At this point I felt like my chances were slim to none.  In my mind I kept hearing superbly nice building manager say "we'll call you" over and over in my mind.  Flashbacks of all the apartments I had cried over, would this one just be another notch in my belt of crying over apartments?

and then I got a phone call.

From the superbly nice building manager.

A call I never expected.  "welcome to the building!"

It turns out the other applicants failed to bring in the rest of the required information, even with the proper warning, nor did they even bother to fill out the application completely.

Which made me feel better.  They just didn't want it as badly as I did.

...and for the first time since being alone, I was approved.  It feels good.

and now I'm at the part where I realize I am moving in less than two months and I have three years worth of junk to get rid of in this house (hoarder!)

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Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?


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