I'm NOT Homeless!

And thank God, because life was about to enter into panic mode.

As some of you know, my apartment is only scheduled to last until August 9th, while my internship goes until the 13th. That's six nights that I hadn't started worrying about until, oh, I don't know, yesterday.

Craigslist to the rescue!

I contacted about half a dozen listings (mostly shared studios for ~$50/night) and got a couple responses back. Most of them were unavailable for all the nights that I needed -- and I wasn't about to move multiple times in the course of six days -- so when one guy emailed back with a reasonably good location, a great rate, and perfect availability, it seemed like heaven had opened up and God was smiling down.

That euphoria didn't last long.

What I thought was the perfect Craigslist posting was actually little more than a blowup mattress, a toilet behind two closet doors, and a bathtub in the middle of a living room with some curtains around it.

Yep -- turns out sometimes when God's smiling, it's because he's laughing.

I should mention at this point that one of my coworkers graciously offered her couch as a backup plan. Unfortunately, she lives out in White Plains (over a half hour train ride to Manhattan in the morning), and I was sort of hoping to spend my last week with my remaining friends in the city. The gesture was very much appreciated none-the-less.

So it was back to Craigslist.

Something that I found really interesting about responding to these online ads was that usually the first thing people asked in their replies was: "could you please tell me more about yourself?".

Umm... ok. I'm almost 21. I'm doing an internship, I'm Canadian. I'm not a douche.

What else do they want to know? How detailed do I get?

I totally understand why they ask -- I mean, if they're living at the location too (which is often the case), they want to make sure that they're hosting someone with a congenial personality. I assume they want people who are tidy and nice and friendly etc. etc.. But honestly, no one is going to say "I throw obnoxious parties every night" or "I pick my nose" or "I don't put the toilet seat down", so unless it's for a stay longer than five nights, I would rather just exchange cash up front for the room keys and be on my merry way. I mean, real estate relationships are measured in square-foot-per-dollar. And let's face it: if someone's a serial killer, they're not going to admit it in their introductory email anyway.

Long story short, I didn't even go with anything from Craigslist. [Sorry -- you could have saved three minutes of your life by skipping straight to this part of the post instead, but hey, too late now.]

I ended up booking a room at the Times Square hostel. Good price, great location, no bath tub with curtains. So that's an immense weight off my scoliosis.

In other news, work is wrapping up insanely quick. Today, one of my coworkers brought me a box of cookies (to share with the whole department... not just for me) because she's off on vacation next week and I won't get to see her again. So all day, I had people popping in my cubicle wishing me good luck and best wishes and all that before stealing a cookie and ducking out. I hadn't even met most of them before, but free cookies in an office are like tequila shots to Lindsay Lohan. Irresistible.

Now, time for a celebrity update.

My parents and grandparents came in yesterday, and after having dinner at The Olive Garden, we walked through Times Square only to see a crowd of people doing a large choreographed dance around Justin Timberlake. Such is the weirdness a pedestrian can encounter here. Lots of my friends have spotted Russell Brand and Katy Perry walking around, too, so cross your fingers for me. And to Tina Fey: if you're reading this, I'm free for coffee next Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday.

Because of all the moving and commotion of the upcoming week, I doubt I'll be able to do another blog post until next Saturday or Sunday. It will be the final post of my New York adventure, and even as I write this now, I feel something in my chest that has a hard time handling that. So until that last post, I'll take another break from the blogosphere to enjoy this last week in New York with wild abandon.

Oh, and if you don't see another post in the next ten days, chances are Tina Fey and I eloped. That, or I got stabbed at the hostel.