For once, I'm not going to write about my apartment search. Some more important matters:

1) I neglected to wish my cousin Abby a happy 15th birthday! I hope you had fun, girl.

2) I heard about George Harrison in the car on the way to see an apartment yesterday. So sad. If I had to choose a "favorite" Beatle, he'd be the one. I always liked his quiet manner and the unique quality of his songs. "It's All Too Much", "Only a Northern Song," "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" -- brilliant. I think one of the reasons he made a big impression on me as a small child was because for a while I thought he and my dad looked a lot alike--they both had long, graying hair in the mid-seventies. And they were both quiet, and both guitar players. So, for that reason also I've always had a fondness for him. Rest in Peace, George.

What do you all want to bet that Ringo will be the last one left, eh?

Now, back to the mundane: I guiltily admit I went to see Harry Potter AGAIN. Nell and I went last night, the second time for each of us. Mainly, I think, we wanted to lust after Alan Rickman some more. We kept giggling like teenagers every time he came on screen. HE IS SO GREAT. I have long thought that -- like Don Cheadle -- the fact that he's in a movie instantly makes that movie worth seeing. Case in point, Kevin Costner's woefully bad "Robin Hood" from some years back. I think the only reason I could sit through it was that Rickman, as the dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham, absolutely lit up the screen. But another thing that almost surprised me about HP was that I genuinely enjoyed seeing it again. I tried watching it from the perspective of somone who had never read the book, and found that I was even more entertained. I think all the books should be read eventually, of course, as there's so much more to them. But the movie is delightful, and worth a viewing even if you don't know your Ron Weasleys from your Neville Longbottoms. The Quidditch match should not be missed, and Robbie Coltrane should win every award for Perfect Casting as Hagrid.

I have only a couple of quibbles-- it drags a bit toward the last third. This film (as did the book) has the unenviable task of having to introduce all of the characters and all of Hogwarts -- which is nearly a full film on it's own -- and then has to sort of cram in an adventure tale at the end. The book is more successful at it, of course, but I think the movie does an admirable job of keeping it interesting. Also there's a bit of a weak tie-up scene near the end, and it comes off as more cheesy than the book presents it, but really this does not detract from the joy of the world that J.K. Rowling created. I read somewhere that many writers hope to have something extraordinary happen once in a book, while Rowling manages to do it on practically every page. A lot of people dismiss Harry Potter as simply a kid-pleasing hype machine, but you can't deny that Rowling penned a creative and dazzling world, which is faithfully depicted onscreen. See it, if for no other reason than for the teriffic acting.

Must go, there are apartments to hunt...

I got stood up! Twice! Yesterday I had an appointment to see a studio in Fort Greene at noon. As usual, I underestimated the time it would take to get there and I arrived about 10-15 minutes late. Nobody was there to meet me, so I sat in front of the building and waited. I tried to call the realtor three times, leaving messages with my cell phone number. I found out from the receptionist that the realtor hadn't come in to the office (which was not far from where I was waiting), nor had she checked in or anything, and she didn't have a cell phone. Now for any realtor anywhere not to have a cell phone is pretty ridiculous, aside from the fact that practically everyone in New York has a cell phone regardless of their profession. So, I waited for 45 minutes in front of the building and gave up. After seeing another couple of places with another realtor (both great--one gorgeous, in fact--but very tiny and too expensive), I went home and nope, the first realtor hadn't called. I called their office and she didn't seem particularly apologetic, and said she was passing this apartment to a different realtor in the office, and he could show it to me at 7:00pm that night. I confirmed that I did indeed have the correct address, and said I'd be there at 7:00--it worked great because I was looking at another couple of places nearby at 6:30.

After looking over the other two places (one a crappy 1-bedroom, the other a reasonable, but not-quite-right-and-sorta-smelly studio), I bolted over to the building so I could be EARLY and make sure not to miss the realtor. Nobody was there when I got there, but I didn't worry since I was early. See, I really liked the neighborhood when I saw it earlier in the day, and the building looked very charming from the outside. Of course that doesn't mean that the studios are nice inside, but it looked positive, and the prices were reasonable. So I waited. Then a guy came out and asked if I was there to see the apartment. I said yes, and he said "well, I could let you in so you could see it and wait for the realtor to show up." He had already shut the door, and was clearly on his way somewhere, so I demurred, saying I would wait. Mistake.

A HALF AN HOUR LATER, I left. Nobody had shown up. A couple of people had gone in and out of the building, but certainly nobody who looked or acted like a realtor, and nobody who asked me if, perhaps, I was there to see the place. Since I didn't have the new realtor's number, I called and left a rather pointed voice mail for the original realtor, pointing out that TWICE I had been left waiting that day, and it didn't seem that they were very interested in renting the apartment. The fact that nobody had even attempted to contact me either time didn't escape my notice either. I was peeved.

Still, nobody called me back. On my way into Manhattan earlier today, I called the office and got the new realtor on the phone. I told him I had waited 45 minutes at the place and didn't see anyone. He claimed that he had been there! I verified the address (again). I asked him if he saw anyone sitting on the front steps. No. Then I told him it wasn't possible that he had been there anywhere between 7pm and 7:30, because I didn't move from the steps that whole time. Then he just started apologizing and saying things like "I'm sorry this happened." I told him that I wanted to know what happened. Finally he said he didn't leave the office until 7:15, but he wasn't far away so probably got there before 7:30. If he was telling the truth, we missed each other by minutes. The whole thing just reeked of incompetence. But what to do, when you think there's a chance the apartment may be worth the hassle? So I set up a new appointment, for tomorrow, making sure that I would meet him at his office instead of at the building. The thing that burns me is that if I do like the apartment, I will end up having to pay these bozos a hefty broker fee. Gah! Oh well, with any luck I won't like the apartment anyway.

Ah, well that felt better. While I'm griping though, let me just add that there are a few minor annoyances that come with living with a bunch of rocker boys. For instance, why is it that when boys sprinkle all over the edge of the toilet bowl, they just leave it there? Do they think it will just evaporate, leaving the bowl springtime fresh? Do they imagine little bathroom gnomes with sponges will pop out of the cupboard and wipe away the drops, whistling a happy tune? Who, exactly, do they think is going to clean up their effluvia? All I'm saying is that whoever it is hopefully has an Internet audience to vent to, or else he might find himself at the wrong end of a PMS rampage.

Goodnight.

My apartment search is a series of disappointing blind dates. While I am not looking for physical perfection, I expect good hygiene, and hope for reasonable accessibility and accommodation. Cat-friendliness is a bonus. Alas, the gorgeous ones are too high-maintenance ($$), and the down-to-earth ones are bland and lack character. Others are just plain creepy. Although I have a general idea of what I want, there is only one thing that is absolutely essential--chemistry. I've experienced it before, all too rarely, when I walked into a room and almost physically felt that "this is it." When that happens, cosmetic details don't matter so much, and so-called flaws and imperfections become part of what makes it lovable. When the right place hits me, I'll know.

Still, I can't help but struggle with places that seem like they should be right, but for some often inexplicable reason, are not. I try to be open-minded, I make lists of pros and cons, I tell myself that any number of others would jump on this place--so what's my problem? But even when I tell myself just to go for it, try it out, take a chance, my stomach starts sinking, and I know that I can't fool myself--it's just not right, not this time. "You're too picky," people tell me. "This is New York, you can't expect one place to have it all." Practical as that sounds, the fact is that I'm going to have to live with this decision for a long time. I'll have to look at this place every day; I'll eat with it, sleep with it, and crawl into it's arms when I'm feeling down. Much as I would like to have this part of my life settled, not just any old thing will do. It doesn't have to be perfect, but it has to be Right.

Still looking...

After a fat and happy Thanksgiving holiday, I'm back to the Apartment search. In a perfect world, I will have arranged, by next Tuesday, a place for me to move into either mid-month, or the end of December. If that doesn't work then I have to pause while I'm out of the country (London). Then, after I return, I will have five fun jet-lagged days to find a place, before I leave again for Xmas holidays back home. After that, upon return from the midwest, I'll have two days to move--somewhere indoors, I hope. Sheesh. I shouldn't be frustrated yet, but I am now feeling the time crunch, where before this was mostly an interesting way of seeing the city. I saw two places today (blah), and I have a few other appointments for the next couple of days so the perfect place could really be just around the corner. Hope springs eternal.

Now the question is, do I go ahead and buy an admission pass to the "Star Wars Celebration II" in Indianapolis this spring, or not risk it since I don't know if I'll have money, a job, a cat-sitter or the time to go away again? Of course if Hayden will be there, I'm afraid job, money and time are of no concern compared with proximity to such hottie-ness. And then there's the chance that Hanson may be touring this spring or summer--oy, can't I be unemployed forever?? Whoops, watch what you ask for!