Monday, December 13, 2004


I want a dog, so badly that I feel physically sick right now. We were waiting until we can buy a house, because we don't want to move twice and our current apartment does not allow us to have pets. But the thing is, a house that is even half of what we require is out of our estimated budget by hundreds of thousands of dollars. So I stupidly started looking at rentals, hoping for a home but willing to look at large apartments as well.

No pets. No pets. No pets. Cat OK. No pets. No pets. No pets. Will consider small pet. No pets. No pets.

My favorite: No pets, smoker OK.

Well, that's nice, but I would rather have a Rottweiller than all the Marlboros on earth.

Or a Pit Bull.

Or an American Bulldog.

Or a Boxer.

Or a little mutt.

I don't care, as long as it has fairly short hair and will wrestle with my husband and is loving and likes children.

No pets. No pets. No pets. No pets.

I was so close to tears that I began to think I was going to throw up.

I found a few great places on Craigslist, but they all have immediate move-in. Which is, needless to say, not even the vaguest possibility. For one thing, it is Christmas, and for another, we broke, and on top of that, we have to give 30 days' notice. I was thinking maybe in the spring if our income situation improves. Even the least expensive stuff I found was several hundred more per month than we pay now.

So I am going to get in bed with a book and maybe some chocolate, which I never crave so I must be depressed.