The Renter's Life

I’m sitting in an apartment that obviously needs a good fung shui cleaning – there’s something amiss that so many liars have been drawn to my little abode like stray cats to a dying fish. I should burn some sage, drum to the spirits, wear a cross, hang prayer flags, and have another beer – maybe that will clean out the vermin that have taken up squatters rights to the place. An apartment renter – if you’re poor like me – has to rely on roommates. When you’ve got a good one – what a blessing – better than marriage. But when you lose them…



So begins, The Search. The Search is God’s way of making you sweat when it isn’t hot. It’s a painstakingly slow process of finding what is apparently a unique commodity. An honest person. I’ve lost count to the liars that have tromped through my door. I made the mistake of believing people were like me, with no reason to lie. Just add that to the long list of mistakes i’ve made in my life. If i had a ten dollar bill for every lie i’ve been told, i would be able to make my rent this month. I’ve been looking for months. I’ve met a lot of liars. This past weekend this guy comes in and freaks me out because he won’t leave. Not like an outright stance, but you know when you’ve said all that needs to be said – it’s time to go. I made several attempts, hinting the conversation was over. But no, he didn’t get it. I finally stopped talking and just stared. Something finally clicked and he slothed his way to the door. It was tempting not to kick him down the stairs. He had the nerve to call back not an hour later to ask “how the interview went.” Today he called to see if anyone else had applied and whined pitifully when i said three other people had come by. He kept making references to his drinking. “Yeah, i have a drink occasionally,” which turned into, “I drink a lot actually but i don’t get drunk.” You keep on telling yourself that lie bugger. I’ve slept with the chain on the door and a stick in the sliding glass door the last couple nights.


There’s nothing like having a passel of strangers parading through your house asking all sorts of personal questions. I feel a lot like Bilbo Baggins when the Dwarves show up and take over his home. You know, i don’t tell people who i’ve known for years some of the stuff i’ve told these lying strangers. It just makes me feel dirty – and it isn’t even my lying! I think i need a bath. It will be a very long soak.