“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

So I was awakened this morning by a phone call. I look at the ID and it's a number with no name. Usually in my little world this doesn't bode well. With great trepidation I answer. It's the real estate place. The property manager of the real estate place whom I've been trying to contact forever, to be precise. He explains how he really needs the note from my Mom to ensure that the rent will continue to get paid and this and that, adding that nobody else will ever see the letter so it can't threaten my health benefits or anything.

We talk a bit, I explain my situation, assure him that I understand his and I prepare for another month of negotiating if not an outright denial...

I got the apartment.

I explained my situation, someone actually listened and actually cut me a break instead of being a beurocratic asshole and making my life ten times more difficult than it has to be.

Could it be that it really is just this town? That, perhaps, beyond the gray, toxic, chemical fog of this shitty fucking town people actually use logic and reason and help each other?

Or was it the fact that I offered to pay an extra month's rent in advance? In any event I got the apartment! I'm sending the deposit via money order today or tomorrow. After they get it they'll need a week to get it ready and then I can move in, so I've got an assload of stuff to do in the meantime. This means I'll probably not be updating as often as I have the last few weeks and once I get up there god only knows when I'll be getting internet back. So if you've got anything important to tell me I'd do it soon before I go incommunicado.

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