Becoming Less Homeless

A few days ago I awoke to see $845 missing from my checking account. It took me about 8 seconds to realize I wrote a rent check a week ago for my Boston apartment. I guess that’s how people go broke. Surprise. No money. ADD people shouldn’t be allowed to write checks.

Thank God this happened after I cashed my savings bonds, advanced my credit, and sold my eggs (on the upside, this probably makes it harder for an accidental pregnancy) to make a deposit on an apartment.

I didn’t really sell my eggs. I know there are some of you that were worried… hopefully enough to get your checkbooks out.

Anyway, last Monday was my first day of work. I learned a lot, had so much fun, and got a free meal. At an $8.99 value, I can probably pay off my car before my grandchildren die.

Last Monday I was living in the Culver City Courtyard hotel. I guess now is the time to tell you that my dad is not an asshole, because he so generously used his Marriott points to get me this hotel. [There you go Dad, so sorry, it’s on the record now]. Anyway, LA is great with turndown service. Not so great when you’re getting turned down for crappy apartments with blood stained mattresses… (We looked at some apartments where we’re pretty sure people got murdered, blah blah, you win some you lose some).

Thursday February 9^th was my last day of living in Casa De Courtyard. I really hadn’t stopped to think about what I was going to do about housing once this fantasy ended.

My first thought was that Elena had a parking space in the garage in her apartment My car was comfy enough, and I brought my sheets! When I called and proposed this idea, she told me I was ridiculous and I was going to stay with her until she, her roommate, and I, could find an apartment together (their lease was up in a month anyway).

This was all well and good, but she and her roommate shared a studio apartment. Nope. I may be poor, but I have standards. Those standards don’t include a three way spoon sesh with a couple of chicks.

I wanted to cover my bases in case the odd couple wasn’t up for moving quickly. So I sent out a bunch of responses to craigslist ads, and even met with a 60 year old Irish lady who seemed like she would be an awesome roomie.

Luckily before I could settle into a Golden Girls life, Elena and Nina hopped on board and applied for our West LA dream home. We spent a whole night finding creative ways to word our employment situations, and illegibly filling in bank account numbers for our rental applications. The next day the little Italian landlady gave me a call. She told me that since I’m a Capricorn and a Snake (according to the Chinese new year) that I’m attractive, good with money, and she trusts me. I’ll take it. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even look at our credit.

Sacrifices had to be made to live the sweet life. With a little creative financing… I can afford a bed next Wednesday. For the latter half of last week, I was sleeping on four couch cushions pushed together on my floor…bound together by my fitted sheet (I knew it would come in handy). Until Wednesday, I’m sleeping with Elena on her futon. Well, not futon. The futon didn’t fit in the UHaul. We’re sleeping on her futon cushion. I guess I didn’t totally avoid the spoon sesh after all.

Anyway, I’m realizing more and more every day how lucky I am.  California is the best place to be poor.

Change of Non Plans...

So this post is long, and if you have been anywhere near me in the past 3 weeks... redundant. BUT GET OVER IT, YOU'RE READING THIS VOLUNTARILY BECAUSE I BEGGED YOU TO.

That whole Victory Lap thing? Didn't happen... I took a wrong turn around the track somewhere outside of Delaware and ended up in Los Angeles. Actually, that is just a well crafted metaphor. The truth is a no more believable. Pretty much it went like this:

-Girl gets temp job at pet store doing data entry.

-Girl begins to get murderous thoughts.

-Girl goes to a talk at Northeastern given by reality TV film producer. (January 11th)

-Girl offers said producer "Bitch Services".

-Girl gets hired to work at unlivable rate to do said services if she can get out to LA ASAP.

-Girl begs friends for help, relatives for money, dad for acceptance, and books one way ticket to LAX.

-Girl gets on plane. (February 2nd)

There were plenty of snags along the way to February 2nd. I had to find a subletter for my already subletted apartment, figure out what I was gonna do about a car, insurance, home, ect. in California, and figure out what to do with all of my items... and I had A LOT OF ITEMS. Oh yea, and there was that whole no money thing.

I got a subletter, but then had to chase him down and finally got my rent money at 11:34pm on February 1st. In cash. I feel great about the transaction.

Every person I called on craigslist about a car sounded like they were gonna rape me, so I decided to get financially raped by a lease instead. At least then I would have a receipt.

My items are spread out along the east coast... I had to leave behind my snowboard that I never use, my sewing machine that I never use, my pots and pans that were never used, and all sorts of other hoard-y items that probably could have solved my money problem if I knew how to use E-bay. I leave 3 boxes in the loving care of a good friend with instructions to send them when I manage to obtain an address...

As for money. I took the savings bonds from my childhood, took out a loan on my soul (I wasn't using that either anyway), and put as much as possible on my credit card with the disgustingly low limit (although probably a bit too generous if my credit card company actually knew me). This problem still isn't really solved...

CUT TO FEBRUARY 2ND:

I go to bed... at like 6am. Talk about night before Christmas feeling...

Dad calls and wakes me up at like 8am... have no idea what I said, but it was probably mean, sorry Dad.

Call Dad back and apologize for angry words. My dad is not the mushy type, but I believe he said something about me being his little girl and going 3,000 miles away. There is a 50% chance he was being sarcastic with the voice cracking thing, so either it was very sweet, or he's an asshole. Either way, I started crying and hung up on him.

I put on Pandora and the Rihanna radio from the night before makes my heart palpitations worse. I listen to some Yo Yo Ma, call my aunt and CALM THE F DOWN.

I get up take the sheets off my bed, and stuff them into my already ripping suitcase (they are new, never even been... well... anyway...). I leave a bunch of random crap for my subletter/rent dodger to deal with. I'm sure he made good use of my shoe organizer and hot glue gun.

I call a cab and leave my Boston life behind.

At the airport I get some weird looks as I struggle with two checked bags and two carry-ons (and I am definitely that asshole who's carry-ons should not be carried on.) The baggage total weighs more than me, and thus I must pay.

As I sit in my awesome seat (I actually checked in on time) I do the usual... send mental signals for a hot guy to sit next to me... but alas, the signals were intercepted by a portly woman. That's ok, at least I don't need my pillow. Fall asleep, land, wake up in Phoenix, get a beer, get on another plane, talk to a nice lady who offers to help me with my baggage, yada yada, uneventful airport business. My good friend Elena who already lives in LA picks me up and we check into my home for the next week, the Culver City courtyard hotel.

CUT TO THE NEXT MORNING

I wake up like this:

I tried to pick some zit on my eyebrow and it got infected or something... my eye was swollen shut.

One urgent care visit and 95 dollars later, and I had some meds, and a still great outlook on life (even if I was only looking out one eye).

After a nap I told Elena that I was ready to go buy a car... (I must note that my eye had not opened up anymore). I slapped on some make-up and my glasses and hoped the car dealer was as desperate as I was to get me in some wheels.

At the dealership I learned that the leasing option advertised was for people with good credit. Oh. So I took a mortgage out on my already loaned out soul and bought a car... a nice lil honda civic that I love... and will own in 6 years. The guy had to beg me to test drive it, but I didn't want to. Because I am used to having two eyes. I finally did, and knew exactly what I knew before. The car drives great, I do not.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for my "Becoming less homeless" saga. It starts in an hour. I'm going to meet up with an older Irish lady with a room for rent.