The search for off-campus college housing is tough
When I was in college, I don’t seem to recall moving as such a
major trauma. In fact, it was fairly simple. Everything I owned
could fit neatly into a VW Dasher.
For my son, moving into his off-campus house near UC Santa Cruz
has been a bit more stressful.
The search for off-campus college housing is tough
When I was in college, I don’t seem to recall moving as such a major trauma. In fact, it was fairly simple. Everything I owned could fit neatly into a VW Dasher.
For my son, moving into his off-campus house near UC Santa Cruz has been a bit more stressful.
First of all, he’s got a lot of stuff. Secondly, he moved into an unfurnished house, which means he is now accumulating more stuff.
Ross has been in the dorms for two years and has about had it with dorm life. He was ready for something different. But just looking for housing in Santa Cruz is a nightmare, similar to that which students in larger urban areas, like Berkeley and San Francisco, experience.
There is intense competition for the desirable places. I’m not kidding. It’s a jungle out there. And it’s worse for the guys, whom the landlords don’t trust. Apparently when there’s a choice between renting to guys or girls, landlords will pick the girls, figuring they’re less likely to trash the place.
Rather than a potential tenant going around and putting in applications, landlords instead hold open houses at their rentals, and there they have their pick of the applicants.
So Ross has put in the better part of a month – a stressful month – looking for housing while simultaneously trying to get through the second half of his classes.
So: The good news is, Ross did find a place. Bad news: There was a period of an entire week between the time he had to move out of the dorms and when he could move into the new digs.
Guess who ended up with his stuff? That’s right. Good old Mom.
And not just his stuff, but the belongings of two of his friends who were in a similar situation.
The boxes and bags and what have you filled up my entire garage. In fact, I could barely get to the washer and dryer, and likewise for the freezer. It was a pretty tight squeeze.
And then there were the things that went missing.
“Mom, have you seen my (fill in the blank)?” was what I heard a few times a day for the past week.
During the week, Ross was also feverishly looking for furniture for this place.
The previous tenants had left very few things behind, most of them not worth keeping, including a big-screen TV with a crack across it, a dismal sofa, and some kind of storage unit that was beyond description. There are no chairs, no beds, no tables and no desks, and not much of anything else that’s of any use.
I bought Ross a new mattress set, and he then scoured Craigslist looking for a desk and a dresser, as well as a few other things. Amazingly, he found all kinds of wonderful free articles of furniture this way.
But then he had to have a way to pick up these items. And they weren’t going to fit in his little VW.
He and I traded cars so that he could use the minivan, and I haven’t seen it since.
I’m sure he’s not keeping it just because he loves it so much. It’s not exactly a cool car.
What he has been doing, from what I understand, is cleaning out the house that he and his friends have rented. The house, without exaggerating in any way, is incredibly filthy – probably due to the fact that a group of guys were living there.
If my son is complaining how dirty the place is, then it’s got to be really, really bad.
