House-Hunting

It's that time of year, folks.

The time when university students everywhere brave the chance meetings with Jack Frost and go out hunting for something alluring and mysterious. Indeed, it's almost a necessity, this search. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, this is right at the bottom, right above "procreation." So, while the adults of the world move on into tax season, and as such, are kind of testy, the collegiate population wanders into the light of day for the first time since they moved in during September to find a place to live when they can no longer count on their Institution of Higher Education to put them up in a room that, if lucky, approaches 150 square feet. For those of you that don't know how big that is, that is the size of a mid-sized walk-in closet, or a reasonably large bathroom. There is something heart-wrenching about searching for a home, as I have been living out of what could have been a nice commode for the past 7 months or so, and much as I grumble about living there, I am going to miss it. There is absolutely no way to lose any of your possessions, especially when you can see most of them at all times.

I am lucky, make no mistakes about it. My father, in his infinite wisdom, has agreed to buy a house for me to live in for the remaining years of my education along with some of my friends. This being the case, I sometimes get swamped with requests. Little do my esteemed peers realize that I am as much a pawn in this as they are. I get questions like this:

• Can I have a puppy?
• How about a gerbil?
• Are you sure your Dad's buying a house?
• When's he going to do it?
• Are you sure?
• What's the rent going to be?
• Will we have a dishwasher?
• Can I have a pot-bellied pig?
• Can we have a pool in the backyard?

Understandably, I find the repetitive nature of these questions to be slightly irksome. Also, being a person who likes to be able to answer questions, I find them annoying due to my own inability to answer them. And so, with that in mind, I have told these troublesome-question-askers that my father is indeed buying a house, yes, I'm sure, and that any further inquiries may be brought to his attention at a specified cell phone number. End of story.

And, surprisingly, it worked.