2003-08-20 @ 11:11 p.m.
|Missed my entry yesterday. I had gone out apartment hunting with my mother and never got home. Spent the night at her house conked out on the couch. We went to several apartments, despite the fact that I was pretty sick.
The first place we went I wasn't able to look at the apartment because it was getting cleaned. I later looked at the application and noticed I had to make $18,000 to get in. Whoops! I'm only $10,000 shy of that. Next place just had a basement apartment. No more of those, thank you. Next place I went into a rental office of a large complex. When the rental clerk asked me about employment I had to tell her I was on disability (since I'm incapable of lying). She immediately slammed shut her book, got up and walked out of the room. We called out a question to her, but she had walked into another room and wouldn't answer. Next place we went the rental agent was nicer and the apartment was huge (as was the price), but they wouldn't take Section 8.
I was very sick last night. Very congested, and coughing with a sore throat. It had been germinating all week. The congestion was the worst. I was laying on my mother's couch, virtually unable to breathe. She finally gave me some Vick's vapor rub to put in my nostrils. Eeeeww. It was very uncomfortable, but it did help....just slightly. It had been a long day.
Before the apartment hunting, my humble abode had been visited by the owner of the entire apartment complex. No more hee-haw flunkies blaming me for mold. We had found his name on the internet and called him at home. He had told my Mom that my landlord had said we had resorted to trickery in getting his home phone number. I guess because initially we had called them and casually asked for "Bob's" number. If they're stupid enough to fall for that, the owner shouldn't have been stupid enough to hire someone that stupid. But as it turns out, they didn't give us the number. They had said ("ahem, lied") that he was on vacation for 3 weeks. We called him the next day on the phone number from the internet. Guess that trip to Cancun got cut short, huh yuppie man?
So he came bounding into my apartment with Slingblade close behind him. I told him I didn't want the maintenance man in there while I talked to him, so Slingblade was sent packing. Unfortunately this guy showed up about 8 minutes before I was due to leave for my shrink. I was stressed about that, so I tried to pour out as much as I could about how if things had gotten fixed right originally, my apartment, property and health would have never been so adversely affected.
He was alternately displayed fake concern and why am I associating with this pee-on as he paced around my apartment. And I kept getting interrupted by his cell phone. And he kept saying, "Well, what do you want me to do?" First of all asshole, I just want you to listen for one thing. That's a real sore point with me. Not getting listened to. Especially when things went so terribly wrong because nobody listened. He went into my bathroom and I showed him the huge cracks where the mold is swallowing up the wall. He made a call and asked someone if it was possible to put a vent fan in a basement apartment. Guess the answer was no, so he said he would repair that and paint it with moisture proof paint. I was thinking, can we paint my entire apartment in that?? The only time he stopped walking around self importantly, was to notice a photo of Robin Williams and myself on my piano. It was back when we were both young and thin. He seemed mildly impressed.
But then I had to leave for my shrink and his cell phone was ringing again and unfortunately, I didn't really get to ask him the all important question...if I find an apartment in 2 weeks, can I move out of here and get my deposit back. I keep hearing this phrase, "If you move out there will be no penalty." Does that translate into, yes, you'll get your deposit back? Or no we won't sue you for the rest of your lease? I'm still unclear about this, and this is paramount to me finding a new place.
So my appointment with my shrink was kind of frazzled. He was alternately nice and irritating. He asked me if I thought the money that the local church gave me last winter to move here was mine or theirs. Its like, what the fuck kind of question is that? If a church helps someone poor, the money is basically a gift, right? What are they going to do, send a couple of 12 year old altar boys over to break my legs if I don't pay it back? His comment made me really upset. I think he likes playing Devil's Advocate and seeing how far he can go before he irritates or makes me cry. Its a short trip these days.
And then after all this, he offered to give me $100 towards my move, but I couldn't come back later and tell anyone he had paid me to do something. Like what??? Oral sex? The do something part was kinda weird. But he's weird. Too much weed smoking in college I think.
So my Mom brought me to a doctor's appointment today at 12:20. My illness had gotten significantly worse over night. My cough was really croupy. My nose was stuffed. I couldn't breathe. My throat was sore. I couldn't talk when I first woke up this morning. Come to find out I had acute sinusitis. So my doctor gave me a prescription for amoxicillan and flonase. When I got home, my bath tub had been spackled over but not painted.
We picked up my messages and got one from a real estate lady who had a cottage in the bigger city near where I live. We decided to go see it, despite the fact that I was still pretty sick. It turned out to be really cute. A whole little house on one level with a yard. I can have my cat. It has off street parking. Its behind a medical complex and next to a house with an old Italian couple in it. Everything is included. Its near the busline. I was getting along famously with the real estate lady and owner. We talked to the current tenant and he couldn't say enough about how nice the people are who own the house and considering all the bad experiences I've had recently with landlords and owners, I wanted and needed to know this information.
So I went in the owner's house. The R.E. lady is handwriting up a lease. And suddenly they asked me for a check for $1250.
I don't think I've had more than $800 in my bank account in three years. I offered them $250 now and the rest at the beginning of the month when I get my deposit back. No. They were wondering why they should hold a rental for someone and not show it to others when they don't know if I'm reliable for the money. And I can see their point. Unfortunately, I have no one to borrow money from. And I'm too shy to anyways. I could possibly ask my aunt and uncle, but I have such low self esteem, I can never imagine being important enough to earn the right to hear the word, "YES". Also I worry about my application. I had to put down the names of my last two landlord. Neither of them like me. Not because I wasn't a good tenant, in terms of paying my rent on time and keeping the place clean and leaving it clean at the end of my lease, but because there has been so much bad blood between us, I can't imagine ever getting a good review from any of them. Especially after my shrinks recent talk with my ex-landlord. She now knows I'm gunning for her in court.
I just feel like everything is crashing down. I want to get out of this apartment by the end of August. I don't want to live among the fungi for the month of September. What to do, what to do? And I STILL can't breathe.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty