on counting chickens while you still have eggs

I saw an apartment yesterday, and it was gloriously large and spacious.  2 bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room.  Plus the bedrooms were pretty big.  A ridiculous amount of money, but at this point, I have become broken down by the process.  Anyway, I submitted an application and a check then and there, because I want a freaking apartment before March 1.  I find out this morning that the owner apparently accepted an application yesterday but without a check, without telling the leasing agents.  She was giving them until tonight at 5pm to get a check in.  I have not heard hide nor hair from the little girl who showed me the apartment.  I'm trying to be zen about it, but it's getting harder as the days tick by to March 1.

Lent starts today.  I'm giving up sweets, which is already proving harder than anticipated.  Which is probably a good sign that perhaps I need to lay off the sugar.

apartment hunting

So I went to see an apartment tonight.  I was really quite excited about it based on the pictures.  I managed to get on the bus the wrong direction initially so I was late meeting the guy.  And felt like a jerk for it.  But I get there, and he's like how do you feel about garden units?  The pictures they posted were carefully selected to not show that fact, and admittedly the living room doesn't seem like it.  But the bedrooms look out onto the alley and they have bars.  And I can hear the neighbors walking around.  And the wood floors that looked so nice in the photos look super cheap in person.
Add to all of these is the fact that some non-gang kid was shot last night (non-fatal) by gang bangers in that very alley.  The one that my bedroom would be looking out onto.  What was semi-okay when the apartment was on the 2nd floor (or higher) became completely not okay in seconds.  And I didn't have the heart to say "No, I'm moving out of Edgewater so that I don't hear gun shots anymore.  I don't want to have to move somewhere that I'll have to worry about being shot in my own bed."
On the bus home, I pulled up the ad again, and nowhere in it did it say it was a garden unit.  If they had, I could have saved this kid and myself an hour out of our nights.