Last week Paul and I signed a Letter of Intent to rent a great place on the East Coast. The apartment complex is small - less than 20 units - and it is two blocks from East Coast Park and the spectacular beach shown in the photos below. There are gorgeous floor-to-ceiling mirrors, tons of wall-length windows, a chandelier in the dining area and two large balconies. But there are a few things getting in the way. This apartment is like a bad boyfriend. All I want to see is the good as I overlook the bad stuff that I know discredits the good. Like the fact that 1,227 square feet is a decent size for a three-bedroom apartment, but the usable space is much smaller, leaving the apartment not very usable.
The bedrooms are nice, but window seats and closet units take up most of the floor space. We will be lucky to fit a couch and two chairs in the living room without blocking the front door. The kitchen has an oven but that's it. We would need to buy a fridge and a microwave and a dishwasher will not fit without renovating. There is space for a washing machine but no washer or dryer. Meaning we would have to furnish the appliances and then just leave them in the apartment when we move out. What smart person would do that?
And then there's the mold. That's right, we spotted a little something funny on the wall outside the master bedroom last week and requested a home inspector evaluate the apartment before we committed to renting. Turns out we were right. The home inspectors suspect the mold is all over, which will require some servicing and some wall repair. Meaning we likely cannot move in Thursday. But it's so pretty! And it's close to the beach! So the apartment is like the bad boyfriend I know I should dump for all of the obvious reasons, except I really like him...or it.
Luckily, I have a husband who is sometimes smarter than I. I have enough trust and confidence in him to say that I trust his judgement and will continue looking for better places with more usable space and less mold. As long as they are by the beach.
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