Caterwauling

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. 

I was going to post about the lady who blared her horn at me at a red light today. When I was fourth in line behind a bus. Sigh. 

But I’d rather talk about the nice guy who, when I was crossing a street yesterday, called out, “Be careful!”

I was walking west and he was headed south.  He saw a car flying  (I’d gander going 55 in a 25) and about to careen on two wheels around my corner  where I was crossing. 

I ran as fast as I could and yelled out “Thank you!” And waved when I was safe. 

I am quick to hate the drivers and neighbors I encounter. But it’s heartwarming to know there are kind people here too. 

I used to think snowbirds were the problem. God knows tourists mucked up the flow when I was in D.C. 

Visitors aren’t the problem here.  It’s the douchebags who have set up residence in my county, for the most part. 

Give me a tourist any old day.  Better yet, get me away from the other residents and it’ll all be just fine.