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“This is the paper you have to sign saying there aren’t any children under 10 living in the apartment.”

“… Or are there?”

Even if a joke is the first thing that comes to your mind when presented with a legal document, it’s probably a good idea not to say it. After implying that my future roommates and I may or may not be hoarding small children in our new digs, I went on to talk about my extensive mug collection (I really, really just like hot beverages. Plus, half of my mugs are currently sitting on a weird shoe-rack-cum-storage shelf in my closet, and I suppose I was giddy with the thought that they might see the light of day), giggling all the way. This led to discussing hot toddies with the realtor, which led to him giving us his card after everything was dated and signed, saying, “Let me know if you have any questions — and make sure I get an invite to that hot toddy party.” Not happening, dude — but still, I wouldn’t have wanted an official grown-up meeting to have gone any other way.

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