ERICA: I’m pretty freaked out by the fact that by this time next year we’ll be married AND likely be homeowners. That’s VERY adult.
Greg and I have started looking around in Brooklyn. We’ve researched neighborhoods, trekked out on subways I had never so much as set foot on (holla to the JMZ!) and found ourselves the cutest, most achingly adorable real estate agent, Jessica, whom Greg has actually accused me of BFF stalking (perhaps because after our very first meeting, I asked him if it would be weird to invite Jessica to the wedding).
We haven’t been looking long, but already I feel like my sharpened wedding planning skills have prepared me for making quick decisions and getting us to “done” as quickly as possible:
* “Our dog Oliver would fall through those flimsy stairs and break his neck.”: NO
* Is that a detention center across the street?: NO Thanks
* No washer/dryer hook-up? (you people need to see the frat house like situation in our bedroom because of our current laundry woes): NO way, Jose
But this weekend, we found a place that made Greg say “Whoa” (a word he has yet to use on any of our previous apartment searches). Whoa for Greg is pretty much the equivalent of HOLY FREKAIN S***. And we are seriously considering making an offer.
Never have I felt more justified in using the word YIKES.