‘Same old story, same old song and dance’

So Evil Landlady 4 told me she would be HAPPY to terminate my lease today.

I kind of went a little nuts defacing my rent check. I’ve had it with her antics and made it a point to have my roaches tell her so in illustration.

She FLIPPED and left me two insane voicemails. In. Sane. I mean, incriminating herself in every possible way because she admitted what a jacked-up place this is. She accused me of all sorts of shit that isn’t true. It was awful.

Here’s the thing. They only pay attention to me when I’m paying them. They usually lose my “honey do” lists that I submit with that check. So, I’ve been doodling ON the checks for years. I guess it was the “hunnit fiddy” I wrote in the “payable” line that got them. Who knows.

I was talking to a young friend about performance evaluations over my career. I was saying how it’s really hard to hear how much YOU SUCK from people who, well, live in glass houses.

The thing is, you can’t do much if you still want to get paid. You let your heart break for a while till the pain either goes away or becomes so immense that you find enough alcohol to fill it.

At a place where you say pay a couple grand a month for the privilege of being ignored, lied to, laughed at and otherwise fucked with … yeah, no. It took them sending me a “YOU IN VIOLATION” notice (their grammar, not mine) for having a goddamned welcome sign on my door that NOBODY SEES, and I Lost. It.

I can’t get around dealing with obnoxious drivers when I’m in the car an hour and a half each day. I have to deal with working as much as I can and not being able to produce enough.

I also struggle with what a dear friend used to call a “Magic Pot of Jobs” (i.e., as if one existed) — only mine is a “Magic Pot of Candidates” who do not actually exist even if we want to believe they are out there somewhere with the unicorns and the leprechauns and the talking puppies sliding down rainbows.

So while I’m busy failing everybody for about 13.5-ish hours of my day and that’s not including the landlady, forgive me for saying something out of turn that was born out of sheer frustration.

I mean, yes I want out of this lease. But on my terms, not hers.

I replied by e-mail, because I do everything in writing when it comes to this place, “It was unprofessional of me and I will be happy to issue a new check. My emotions got the better of me with the recent letter you tacked on my door. You are doing a better job than your predecessors and I appreciate your efforts.”

Let her be the hysterical one.

And if I get tossed, well, I can’t say I wasn’t heard. Which is my biggest complaint across all areas of my life — I get pushed to the limit, I scream and then they think I’m the crazy one. Considering HOW MANY times this pattern has played out in my life, you’d think I’d find a different course of action …

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