Home sweet hell

So I have like five realtors working on my escape plan. And tomorrow is the day I have to tell that Putz of a landlord whether I can suck it up for another year or whether he can shove this prison up his ass sideways. 

Now there is construction upstairs. Nobody told me. But having the house rocking for the last week sort of gave it away. I finally called one of the useless HOA girls and she said they are gutting the place and it will be several weeks. 

Can a sista catch a break ever?!?!

It’s not even the moving that bugs me. It’s the loot. It’s the crap we bought to replace the crap that’s in storage. 

It’s also that limbo between saying you’re out and actually getting a place. I noticed a ton of inventory come out yesterday. Today 80% of it is already under contract. Tomorrow it will all be contingent. And I will await the next batch of homes on whatever day it hits. 

Mom said let’s stay here if Putz doesn’t raise the rent. But that was before Renovation Hell. Plus whoever is living up there still tromps around in high heels and throws marbles at the floor every two and a half hours. 

I try to be grateful I have a home. But I get the feeling the only reason I work is to pay for this dump. And that is just not OK. 

Comments closed.