"Aww! Fuzzy love! Kitty kisses from da fuzzy! Aww? Are you purring, even? Yes, purr, purr! Jeez, what is it, Georgie? What is it about my hands that you like so much today? Oh, shit. No, George. Get away, kitten. Bleach is not an approved kitty substance. Back off, kitty! Dammit, cat! You could get really sick, loving me today! No, Georgie! Leave me alone!"

I'm so glad I washed my hands to get the big globs of bleach stuff off before I came upstairs. I have a total freak cat. I have the only cat in the world who hates fish, but loves the taste of bleach.

***

Who is it, in my building, that insists on taking their stuff out of the machine before the cycle is finished? Today, I was prepared, and shut the lids of all the machines before putting any of my stuff in. Sure enough, one of the machines immediately started a spin cycle. I pretreated my work shirts, rinsed the bleach goop off my hands, and filled the other machines while this one machine ran through its spin cycle and finally shut itself off. I just don't get it. Who would possibly want to deal with dripping wet stuff? Do they not understand that the spin cycle is an intrinsic part of the washing machine process?

***

Saturday, we got the reapplication for the apartment, because in August, another year will have passed, and they need to make sure we still qualify to live here. Yesterday, I filled it out, and realized there's no way in hell we can stay.

Technically, this is a low-income building. When we moved here, Christine was the building manager. On the day when we filled out the paperwork, neither one of us had a job yet, so she just checked the box that said we qualified, then never got around to updating the form.

In May '98, I was working at Chong's for waitress wages plus $20/night in tips, and D. was making slightly more than minimum wage at a telemarketing place. We found out we were indeed low income. In Sept. I started at the casino, which should have disqualified us, but by the time the recertification came around in May '99, D. was fired. (He stayed out of work till Oct, but I'm all through being bitter about that. Really, I am.) The point is, last May, the casino figured out my average weekly wages based on the previous winter, which sucked. The fact that I make almost twice as much in the summer never entered the equation, because I hadn't worked over the summer.

But here it is, May again. I made $20,000 last year, and D. made $2,500, working three months. We bought a new car. There's $350 in savings. There is no way we can keep living here. (It occurs to me that readers in big cities are probably reading this, and wondering what sort of crack monkeys D. and I are. "$20,000? She thinks that's the good life?" Let me try to put this in perspective. Our rent is $395, which includes heat, electricity, water, air-conditioning, on-site laundry facilities, and free parking. When things are really tight, I can do a week's worth of grocery shopping for 30 bucks. Eating out is almost always less than $40, and usually less than $20. Tis cheap, living in the boondocks. Now, the people living in small towns are confused. "$395? Is she insane?" No, Augusta Housing is. That's their idea of low-income housing. To be fair, if we had kids, or were senior citizens, we would get additional discounts, and it probably would be the cheapest place in town to live. But, I digress.) D. pointed out that we might still qualify for a 3-bedroom place in this building, but that seems silly, moving into a new apartment just for two months. And that's even if they would let us be that silly, and not force us to sign another year lease.

So, it all comes down to how efficient Augusta is about booting out people who don't belong here. If they get our application for renewal this week, and immediately throw their hands in the air and have eleven different conniptions, we'll probably have to be out by the end of the month. If they wait until our renewal actually comes up in August, we'll assuredly be asked to leave then.

I think it goes without saying that if we have to move before the end of summer, we'll be moving to Cowtown. But, at least now, D. and I won't have to pretend we like it because we think it's what the other one wants.

previous--next