99 problems but only because I’m not counting one

I have a situation that should stress me out. And yet it is not what stresses me out the most.

I think bad grammar will be the death of me before the situation moves my blood pressure a single notch higher.

What will also kill me is how I still haven’t given notice at my apartment that I’m leaving because Mom won’t let me.

Granted I’m still waiting to hear from the Evil HOA whether they deem me worthy of renting from a private owner on their grounds.

But Mom may have a point that Evil Landlady 6 / New and Probably Evil Landlord 7 (a man! A disheveled one too. He is scary-looking) could toss us to the curb a month before we’re ready. But damn, could I take the hit to my credit they could give me if I don’t sing the “So Long, Farewell” song?

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