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After scouring tree-lined avenue streets in the rain, we found the place. The only place that was so obviously the place. My parents needed little training this morning as we started out. Before long, they, too, became experts at knowing at a glance whether it was the place or not. And when I got cold and tired, my dad still insisted on running up to buildings with "For Rent" signs and peering in windows and hurdling bushes and perceiving easily whether it could be the place. My dad left my mom and me in the car, but returned after just a minute or so, hollering, "Get out of the car now!" If I hadn't have sensed his enthusiasm, I would've thought he had detected a car bomb ready to blow. If there were any doubt, I stepped inside and knew immediately why I was hurried up those steps before the people showing him around left--because it was the place. I didn't notice much else after that, as I was consumed with doing my best just to bow to (yes, I'm still bowing) and make friends with the people living there. I know it's the place. They seemed to sense the same. Now I just need to convince the landlord (who has been interviewing other prospectives) that that place loves me as much as I love it. Anybody know voodoo? For Rent, ck [2003-05-09]
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