God Money, I'll Do Anything for You

Sweet God, this year is trying to kill me.

My landlord got the papers from the housing inspector today, which I found out when I came back from grabbing lunch and seeing the blinking red voicemail light of doom flashing away. My landlord's wife called to ask a question about "the matter of papers that came in the mail today." I called my Mom to warn her that my landlord was angry and then called the landlord back.

My landlady basically read me a riot act, telling me that what I did was "not very nice" and I should of called them. I pointed out that I'd been calling them since September and reported all the problems that the report stated and I still had rats. She didn't even give me time to get into all the fires.

"If you're so unhappy, why don't you start looking around?"

"Will you give me written permission to do that?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," I said, and hung up the phone.

I started cutting up boxes to bring home with me to start packing, and my coworkers came over to ask me about what was going on. I explained how I could afford to move with the last month's rent I already paid and the bonus I expected from my boss at any moment.

"You don't get them when you get promoted," one said.

"What?"

"You're on a different schedule," another explained, "you won't get it until February or March."

And in the middle of my cubicle, I just lost it. I tried to play it cool and turn around and face my monitor and cry quietly. Unfortunately, my sweet coworker came over at that moment to talk to me about a project and saw me crying my eyes out and unable to explain why due to the sobbing. I fought the urge to call my boss various names for not warning me of this. I got myself together for a company function and talked myself off my mental ledge. I can get some money together by the end of January. I'll have to charge the movers. I'll have to find a way to make it work to avoid dying in a fire. Literally.

And whoever has the voodoo doll of me, knock it the fuck off. Uncle! You win!