It’s a damn good thing I don’t fall in love with boys the way I fall in love with houses.
Thinking we’d get a jump on things, J and I have been scouring the Craig’s List rental adds for Wilmington for the past month or so, and while he’s managed to keep a level head about the whole thing, I seem to find THE ONE nearly every other day. And THE ONE is always perfection on paper, but inevitably flawed in some deal-breaking way: it’s got a beautiful facade, but the interior boasts weird carpet and wood paneling; it’s stunning, with all the amenities, but situated on the wrong side of the tracks; or it’s swanky and brand new, but won’t give you enough space.
In short: house-hunting is like dating. And dating was NOT my forte. However, I was an extremely picky dater, and it appears I need to apply that kind of discerning taste to my rental search as well. That way I can end up with a good looking, extremely cozy abode who’s only flaw is being half an hour late all the time 
