Chapter 2 – The Beginning of A Strange Relationship
Near end of July I’m connecting with AM. Not an easy procedure. I wanted to make sure that all was in check and that I could start moving my belongings, what I had left, into the apartment. I had measured everything and laid it out on a piece of paper. It was going to be good. So I thought. AM tells me, when he finally responded, that he had rented the place out to someone else. Woe be me. Again. I was irate and told him that it was unprofessional, and that the cheque was in the mail for him. Mail? Mail? He asks. Yes, AM, in the mail. Did you pick it up yet? Were my thoughts. He hadn’t. He was having problems with Canada Post. It had been there for a week. He didn’t believe that I was the real deal, so he gave up the apartment to someone else, unbeknownst to him that I was the real deal and that money was in his postal box. Okay. So I’m too nice. Everyone tells me that and I now know they are right. But I do have a threshold. I told him it was unfair, and that I had nowhere to go. He told me he had a two bedroom apartment for $200 more per month. Okay. Here’s the deal. Aside from my dogs, I’m single and alone. I have a job, but that is a story for the next chapter. Point is, I don’t want to pay more than what I was told I was going to pay.
AM continues. “I’ll rent it to you for $100 more than the other one”. Okay. Not much choice, so I accept before even seeing the place. Then I see the place – a decrepit two room (NOT two bedroom) apartment, albeit on the main floor, so easier to move into. The back room smelled of soiled cat piss and a dog shit sat in the right corner which was obviously there for some time. It was covered in mousse like white. The bathroom was the hallway between the two rooms, the bathroom sink in the back room separate from the bathroom. On the wall in the front room was a big tree, and on the other wall was “Once Upon A Time”. The overhead light was a sun. The kitchen was also between the two rooms, about enough to fit me. Me, of 135 lbs. at that time. Two burners, no stove and he did manage to get a fridge in there that wouldn’t allow me the space to get to the sink to do my dishes. And I inherited mice. Apparently it had been home to a crack head, and before that was a daycare. Names of children were still painted on the top of the coat rack that was also in the kitchen. There was water damage and dripping from the bathroom upstairs in the back room as well, and a hole where they took off one of the panels, you know, the kind you see in basements. I look up at them now and again and want to paint them all with images of my previous lives. (wrote lies first because maybe that is a Freudian slip).
All I could think about was this. “LA you have always been able to make a place home, no matter what it looks like. Take it”. So I did. So here I am at the Monrad Mansion and ready to share with you my previous lives, and the life here. I warn you, the life here is more appealing and hilarious. But it was my previous lies (lives) that brought me here. I am now around a bunch of people with nothing and asking for lots from my life where we had and gave and people had and didn’t give either. Welcome to my life.