Thirty one hours. Four airports. Five airplane meals. An entire novel. A toddler who peed on the seat next to me. Finally I landed, all head-fuzz and man-glasses, safely in my parents' suburban nest... and promptly began plotting my next path out.
The apartment hunt was on.
Lucky for me, my craigslist peruse proved to be fruitful, and after responding to a few ads I received a speedy reply from one Pastor Tenny Hagen, all the way from West Africa.
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As a service to the lazy, I will paraphrase. The Good Pastor, a missionary and a "kind and honest man," has a big swanky apartment to rent out while he's "very busy with missions and crusades" in Africa. He needs a tenant who is "neat, honest, and trustworthy" to take good care of his property while he is away. There is no one here to show the apartment, so if I will just send first month's rent and a security deposit to his wife in Kentucky, they'll send me the keys and documents by courier the next day. Easy as pie.
Well, it seemed to me that emails like this were the fun part of apartment hunting, so I decided to let ol' Tenny in on the fun too, and sent him the following reply:
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He hasn't gotten back to me yet.