I am aching for an apartment to call my own. To decorate as I please, and to organize as I see fit. I need an address to ship the remainder of my art to and a recreated rendition of my bed in LA to indulge in on long weekends. Being uprooted is the most unpleasant feeling in the world, and only second to that is thinking you’ve found an apartment, only to have the owner be an ass and decline your roommate’s application. LESIGH.