Homelessness may be sad, but my new sundress is happy

It is important to me to let all you fine readers know that apartment searching in LA sucks. Especially when you have two dogs. Even though—put together—they still only equal one small dog. Thus, the search for a place to hang my leashes continues. I’ve never had this hard a time trying to find a place. Makes a gal wonder if she’s supposed to stay in LA at all—which I certainly hope so because I just got some very cute sundresses that look really good next to the Pacific.

Incidentally, my neighbor looks really good, too. He’s sooo cute and I keep having this fantasy that, when my moving truck pulls up, he’ll run out of his house, desperate to ask me out before he loses the chance. What happens next is one of two versions. In the first one, I say, I’d love to go out. Luckily I’m only moving a block away into the two bedroom, two bath duplex with fireplace, parking and laundry. In the other fantasy, I say, I’d love to go out, but due to the extremely unwelcoming nature of apartment-searching in this city, I have been forced to give up, quit my job, and move back in with my parents in Virginia. Yes, I’m 31, why do you ask?

Clearly the first fantasy’s looking a little better than the second—though I have to say I love few places more than my parents’ mountainside farm.

So the housing search has become a bit distressing—hence the new sundresses, which I am so glad I got. I am wearing one of them today, a little colonial blue number from Urban Outfitters with tie top straps, semi-fitted to the waist and then swishes down to my knees. So fun! Especially fun was the fact that when I went out to my car to go to work, my other neighbor—a somewhat famous actor in the teen realm—was walking two dogs, one on the leash and one off. The one off-leash is this ridiculously cute little black puffball who was running around behind my car. Meanwhile, Somewhat Famous Actor Neighbor (or “SFAN” to make it easier) had called to Super Cute Neighbor (or “SCN”—again, for ease) to come out of his house and they were talking like ten feet away from me (!). SADLY, I had to interrupt to ask Somewhat Famous Actor Neighbor to call his little dog away, because I didn’t want to hit him and that he (the dog) was cute. SFAN—who I’ve hardly seen and never talked to—smiles and says, “Only because he’s cute, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t mind hitting him, right?” I laugh and have nothing smooth to say back, which apparently is fine because then he tugs on the leash of the other dog and adds, “Here, you can put this one behind your car.” Ha ha. He’s funny and the whole time I’m thinking about Super Cute Neighbor who’s watching the whole thing and I’m all shy and thinking that I’d really like to be talking to him. So I look at him and he’s all smiley looking at me. I smile back and it’s all very special. Sigh.

I get into my car (Grandpa, now named Papaw in order to more accurately honor my grandpa, Papaw, proper—and props to mom and pop for driving him out to me). Anyway, I get in my car (you’ll never hear me say So, I get into Papaw… omg blech!). Aaaaaannnyway, I get in to drive away and Super Cute Neighbor is still looking at me. I leave for work with a smile on my face: potential homelessness and mounting debt be damned, I have a cute dress on with my hair in a tasteful sidepony and a movie star hitting on me in front of a crush.