Homelessness, here I come
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'.
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,