Subletting

Life partners.

I’m studying in England during spring term, which I’m sure will be rewarding and life-enriching once I’m there, but has been nothing but trouble so far. Maybe that’s the point of the program – they bury you with red tape and charge an exorbitant amount so that your last memories of America before you leave are of bureaucracy and poverty, and thus when you get to your foreign destination any homesickness or culture shock is overridden by your relief at not having to do any more paperwork or pay any more large nonrefundable application fees.

A lot of people spend a year abroad, but I opted to only go for the spring because that way I wouldn’t have to miss marching band in the fall or basketball band in the winter – so in case you were wondering, yes, nerdy exterior factors do determine literally every facet of my life. This is why I want my first car to be either a DeLorean or the Planet Express ship.

My choice to spend only one term as opposed to three in Merry Old England has thrown an even bigger wrench into the already wrench-laden works of convincing the University of Oregon to let me put a few thousand miles between myself and everyone and everything I know to pump near-worthless American money into a far stronger overseas economy. Namely, this comes in the form of finding somebody to live in my apartment.

My roommates and I took the plunge on the expensive apartment because last year we all lived in considerably less nice places – Jack and I in quads managed by the detestable Capri Apartments and Bret in a 30-year-old firetrap several miles away from literally everything. I’m not even kidding – his place could have been located in the middle of a poorly laid out subdivision at the bottom of the Marianas Trench and it still would have been closer to where everyone else lived, or at least decent seafood.

Those bastards at Von Klein Property Management didn’t want to give me a 7-month lease, so before I leave I need to find somebody to live in my place. This is made particularly difficult by the fact that rent at my apartment is $598 per person, and most of the listings on the “sublets” section of craigslist are for $200, $300, or WILLING TO TRADE HANDMADE JEWELRY FOR RENT!!! :D Granted, my apartment has a great location and is absolutely goddamn beautiful, but it has been my experience that a lot of college students will gladly live in the utmost squalor if it means they can save some beer money.

After my first two listings went unnoticed, I took to trolling the “housing wanted” section in hopes of physically going out and dragging in a potential tenant. However, I was not at all prepared for what I would see.

I, like most college students, am self-centered, and naturally assume that everyone living in Eugene is a college student as well. Imagine my surprise when I saw posts from townies in desperate search of lodging. Some were merely looking for a vacant lot on which to park the trailer they live in, others are single parents of small children, and nearly all of them have pets, some of which are referred to as “life partners.” I understand that if weird shit were gold, craigslist would be Fort Knox – a densely concentrated repository of all the best the Internet has to offer – but even then, life partners?*

*If you die of a heart attack and nobody finds you for a few weeks, that so called “life partner” isn’t going to have too many qualms about chowing down on your corpse once there’s been one too many missed dinners. A real life partner wouldn’t do that – for example, I’m relatively sure Mike would abstain from cannibalism for at least a month.

I’ve entertained the possibility of contacting these desperate people and trying to cut a deal.

“Yeah, Von Klein doesn’t allow pets, but if you’re real good about hiding your (supposedly) domesticated skunk, I think we can work something out.”

“Single father of two, huh? Nah, it’s a pretty big room, I think all three of you could fit in here. Hey, so my roommates are fairly pro-herb – how do your kids feel about that? What? Look, I don’t give a shit if they’re in middle school, I just want to know if I’m going to be subletting to a couple of narcs. I’m trying to be a good roommate here.”

I’ve begun to try and find alternate uses for the room in case I can’t fill it with an actual person. For example, the public storage industry seems to be booming at the moment, and my room has been nothing but successful for storing my own shit. If nobody wants to live here, I can at least charge someone to keep their stuff in a climate controlled room with a lovely view of the alley. Barring that, I could build a still in here and just have Bret and Jack sell bootleg whiskey to pay for my end of the rent.

Yes, it’s illegal, but while crime doesn’t pay, I think it pays one hell of a lot better than shilling out three months’ rent for a beautiful yet empty room.

Truman Capps does not want potential buyers to see this and think that he’s desperate. He’s not. He promises.