Homelessness, here I come

' There are some flatmates who never seem to have the money to pay their bills. There are other flatmates who will use your money to pay their bills. And there are those very special flatmates who will steal your money and leave town, still not having paid their bills.'
from John Birmingham's He Died with a Felafel in his Hand

Getting a 'Notice to Vacate' letter is always an ugly experience. It's on par with getting a whopping bill from a telecommunications giant months after you've left some premises. A bit worse maybe since you may soon join the ranks of the nation's homeless. You're suddenly staring down the 12-gauge barrel of sleeping on park benches.

I get the call early in the morning ( about 11:45). 'Guess how much money you guys owe us?' asks the chirpy Real Estate Chick.
'....er....zero dollars?' I reply groggily. 'Try $1,700'.

Micah.

My brother from another mother.

Has screwed us big time.

I haven't actually seen hide nor what's-left-of-his-hair of him for about a month. He's recently graduated from always being late for a cafe job to a full-time "musician" ( fired from said jobs) and spends most of his time smoking pot and sitting on the couch at his girlfriend's house. And now I'm finding out that he's;
a) moving out and
b) leaving us little choice but to move out as well.

Just when I found us a housemate too. Tracking Micah down is going to be an absolute nightmare. He doesn't answer his phone. His girlfriend doesn't have a working telephone. Even if he did he skulks away from a $30 bill so this is a leviathan compared to that.


14 Days Before Eviction,
Fatman