A flamboyant landlord ushers me into the “quaint studio one block away from the park” and I feel suicidal. The kitchen is about the size of Kirstie Alley’s ass with ample counter space to prepare a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, providing I use tiny hors’ devours bread and Smucker’s Goober (which is completely nasty). I imagine the main room to be barely large enough for me to create carpet angels. As for the bathroom, it is an ingenious feat of interior design; if I desired, I could take a shit on the toilet, wash my feet in the shower, and shave my face over the sink – all at the same time. It’s a steal at $900 per month but I kindly turn down an application.

The next place on my list is freezing and damp – and by damp, I mean the carpeted floor is covered by 6 inches of icy water. My potential kitchen is a floe and the bathroom is a jagged block of shorefast ice. Every basin in the apartment brims with fresh cod. I decide to argue with the rental agent.

“Look,” I say. “This place is perfect for ringed seals but not for humans.”

“That’s a poor opinion,” scoffs the agent. “And completely relative. Ringed seals are more human than, say, platypuses.” He pauses a moment. “And more interesting than ringed seal humanness is platypus pluralness. Did you know that there are several forms of the word and they’re all disputed? Platypuses and platypi are both somewhat common while platypodes is rarer and seen as more scientific – and pretentious. How exhilarating!”

“I often change up the plural form I use depending on the social situation,” he continues. “Platypuses in farmer’s markets, platypodes at the ball, and platypi when talking to elementary school children. Do you talk to children?”

“Not really,” I say. “I don’t really know any, and I’m a bit of a recluse.”

“That’s a shame,” the agent says. “So, how about this place?”

I decline and return home to change into dry shoes and pants for the next open house, which is a one bedroom cottage that has a “GREAT LOCATION!!! CLOSE TO FREEWAY AND SHOPPING, VIEW OF BRIDGE!!!!!!” However, upon my arrival to the address, I find that the “cottage” is really two large metal tubes touching each other at one end, creating a long cylindrical hall. This place would be perfect for an o-ring.

Regardless, I ask the landlord to show me the onsite laundry, which is nice. This still doesn’t warrant the completion of an application to live in a pipe for one year, so I leave the site frustrated and starving. I’m in the mood for cheesecake, and when I think “cheesecake” I immediately think “Jack in the Box” so I head to the drive-through and order two slices of heaven. They plop into my gut like a delicious bomb.

Weary and bloated with sweetness, I drive to the final rental on my list and I’m pleasantly surprised: it’s a large ground-level duplex with high arched ceilings and loads of windows. The appliances and fixtures are new, as is the wood floor and paint job. Peering out the front window, I have a perfect view of downtown framed by exotic landscaping. I almost have a boner.

The only problem is that five other people are looking at the place with me, and they’re all carrying stuffed manila envelopes and are frothing at the mouth. I ask a young woman to disclose the contents of her envelope and she lists them without blinking: rental application, credit report with FICO score (dated yesterday), photocopies of her driver’s license, birth certificate, passport pages, last 24 pay stubs, dissertation, and infant footprints, homemade matzo, the first valentine she ever received, a favorite Dilbert comic, and a coupon for “buy one get one free” Garden Herb Triscuits.

I have nothing and decide to leave dejected rather than compete in the Olympiad of Preparedness. Naïve is the best word to describe me at this point. Who would have though finding a place close to downtown would be this difficult? With only one week left before I get kicked out of my current living arrangement, I do the only thing left to do.

I end up putting money down on the first place I saw – the tiny studio – which actually comes furnished with Kirstie Alley’s ass. So I’ve got that going for me.