Make A Move
             It seems like only yesterday. There I was, alongside my roommates, enduring yet another dog day of summer. The temperature was effortlessly soaring above 100 degrees, and the only things keeping us cool were our decrepit window unit, haphazardly teamed with a barrage of ragged aluminum foil that tactfully covered our paper-thin windowpanes. Hot does not even begin to describe the climate we spelunkers fought inside that pitch-black cave of ours. It was at that very instant, right when things could not possibly get any worse, that misfortune clandestinely nudged its' dastardly little nose into the scheme of things. Much like a pesky mosquito's bite during a midday hammock-bound nap, the phone's startling ring annoyingly awoke us. To our dismay it was our landlord, who seemed to be the bearer of everything but even a little good news. "I'm sorry to say it", he muttered, "but ya' know that the college owns that ol' house of yers, and they've come to a decision. Ya' see, they wanna go ahead and tear it down so they can make way for that new ball field they've been talkin' 'bout". Just great, I thought to myself, but before I could reply he ashamedly added: "There's one more thing. I'm sorry to say this too, but you've only got 'till the end of the month to make a move." For both time and etiquette's sake, I'll not mention my reply, but needless to say we three had no recourse but to cover our wagons and stake claim on a new territory.
             Considering the fact that we had little room for particularity, the underlying goal of my research would be quite basic: simply find an affordable home for my roommates and I. Due to time's ever-pressing nature, it was only a few hours from that disheartening call that I began my homework on this altogether unexplored topic. My right brain authoritatively took...