Anything Lime



“Sorry, We Don’t Accept Applications From Anyone Weighing More Than 350 Lbs.”

The time has come for Patrick and me to leave our totally crammed apartment and venture off into bigger and better things. And by bigger and better things, what I mean is a slightly less crammed, overfilled, no where to store all my crap, tiny one bedroom apartment that is closer to my work.

So, Patrick, feeling quite ambitious, put together a list of 40 (no exaggeration) apartment complexes (complete with directions) to visit in ONE DAY! Let me tell you, if you want a happy, absolutely perfect, totally in-love couple to choke each other to death on the corner of Orange and Robinson, this is the way to go about doing it. Also, make some of the directions incorrect. Yeah, that’ll really help the situation.

After seeing a few promising places, we agreed the best thing to do is raise our standards and cross off anything not worth looking at. This meant not so much as tapping the brakes as we drove by shabby complexes and crossed the names off the list. The biggest disappointment of the day, however, came by way of, “sorry, we have a weight limit for pets,” or “You’ll have to pay more if you want to bring your big, beautiful, perfect-in-every-way dog in here.”

So there we are, driving around, screaming, occasionally taking large bites out of each other’s forearms while I bitched and moaned about the discrimination of the companies who manage these properties. “But MY dog is a model citizen…” I pleaded, “She’s been through obedience! She’s got blue eyes and that means she’s perfect.” Meanwhile I watched as some snorting cross-eyed pug went trotting past toward his apartment. That little bastard paused only for a moment to flash me a gang sign before prancing away. Ugh. The nerve.

I turned into a desperate, whiny little baby. “Puuuuuuuuu-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeez let me bring her! Pretty please please don’t make me pay $600 for her to come into this apartment and not do any damage. AAAAAAAAH!!” I even cried a little, but to no avail.

“Sorry,” they say. “It’s just our policy. We’d actually prefer to have 17 rabid chihuahuas running out of control biting the toes off small children living on these premises than have one big lazy panda who is as destructive as a couch.”

I thought long and hard about what route I should take next. Her problem is glandular. no. She’s sensitive about her weight. no. She’s just fluffy. no. That will never work.

I hardly want to admit what I did next. This was an act of total desperation.

“She’s in training to be a therapy dog to visit sick children in hospitals and aging residents in nursing homes. She’s taking the Canine Good Citizen and Therapy Dog International tests, so she’ll have completed so much training by the time we move in. The only thing I can think that’s comparable is a seeing-eye dog, and I can’t imagine you’d charge this kind of money for a seeing-eye dog to live on this property.”

I’m not proud.

When I asked — multiple times — why one particular complex is so discriminatory about dogs over the weight limit, one woman told me, “It’s just not fair to the dog, big dogs need more space.”

And it took every ounce of me not to say, “What’s your weight limit on humans?”

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Comments

  1. * Mom says:

    I want the first autographed copy of your book!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 5 months ago
  2. * Patrick says:

    Damn apartment complex overlords! Too Hell with them all! Despite all the drama and stress I sure do love apartment hunting with you. The bite marks will heal…I think.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 5 months ago


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