Was at the mechanic yesterday, dodging about $1,000 in needed repairs. When I found out we live in the same goddamned place.

We traded stories — mine of the guy shooting off his nuts and his dog’s too, the swamp cancer, the duck-kickers, the guy who pisses off the balcony … and his of the big gay guys who fuck hard up against his wall, the neighbor who OD’d, the guy who killed himself and maimed his girlfriend for life, and the flying 2x4s during the last storm.

We both have cop stories, the asshole who claims we don’t come to a full stop but lets everyone else fly through at 78 mph with no problems. (I got the ticket; he, being 6’7″, did not.)

We talked of getting screwed on the rent. Although I kept slightly mum that at least I get a 2BR for my near-two-grand, while he has a 1BR. Of course, he has a girlfriend to split the bills with (damn! he’s cute, too! And we KNOW how I need a mechanic in my life!), so I don’t feel too bad.

Meanwhile, my friend I had lunch with says her mortgage is $700 a month.

Granted, I’d never want to live where she does. And she’s getting screwed with her healthcare premiums for $900 a month.

Meanwhile we have zero in the way of healthcare here. So she’s basically getting healthy and isn’t housing-insecure, for the same money I spend.

Meanwhile I fret every minute of every day about losing the job, the apartment, the mom, the cat, the car. With no real way to save a freaking dime because the apartment eats my whole salary.

Welcome to South Florida, kids. Where nobody has it good.

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