Posts Tagged ‘dog’

90 Days

May 28, 2018

A lot can happen in 90 days.

This is what I tell myself.

A lot can actually happen in a few hours, in a few minutes, in an unexpected conversation with ones landlady.

Oh my God.

I have been asked to move.

I don’t know exactly what to do yet, or whom to share this information with.

I will admit I had an impulse to post up all over social media, but I restrained myself.

I think I was in shock.

I still am a bit, truth be told.

Yesterday though, I was definitely in shock, disbelief, horror, I was freaked out, I cried in supervision when I had to do my check in, I probably should not have been riding my scooter, but in a way it might have been the best thing since I had to focus fiercely on the road for a half hour.

I rode my scooter into supervision yesterday because of the huge Carnival festival that happens in the Mission every year Memorial Day weekend.

It’s a gigantic party and it’s a huge, huge, huge parade.

Where my internship is located at was a designated area of the Mission that was to be part of the route and there was no parking anywhere to be had, I knew this ahead of time and planned on taking my scooter.

I had no idea I would be riding to my group supervision with the information I had just gotten.

I had been actually excited to go to supervision, see the therapists who have watched me over this past year as I have grown comfortable with becoming a therapist and seeing clients there, and share with them the achievement of having graduated.

All that, however, was eclipsed by the bombshell my landlady dropped on me.

She told me she wanted me to move out.

That she had been planning on talking to me about it for a few weeks, but didn’t want to “spoil” my graduation weekend and stress me out.

Thanks.

You stressed me out anyway.

I find it really interesting that I had decided to pay my rent a week and a half early for next month too, I usually do pay early, by at least a few days, but something compelled me to do it earlier than usual and I believe I may have sensed something in the air.

A few weeks ago my landlady had the property inspected as she was planning on doing a re-financing of the house, “I’ll finally get that window in the studio,” is what I thought.

That, apparently was not what she thought.

Oh, there’s going to be a window, but it’s not for me.

She told me that she was originally going to give me thirty days, then I had paid rent for this upcoming month, like I said, I like to pay it in advance, and since it might take me a little while to find a place that she thought she’d give me 60, no, 90 days to move out.

That now that I was done with school, I got into a PhD program you rotten whore, oops, did I say that? She was happy to have “helped” support me through the Masters program by letting me live here.

Helped?

I have helped you lady pants, like, I pay the rent.

I pay utilities.

I am a model tenant.

I pay rent in advance.

I have ever since I moved in.

I take the trash out, I keep my studio clean, clean, clean.

I am sober, no partying down in my little den.

I don’t smoke.

I am a fucking full-time nanny who has a part-time internship and I, until recently, also attended grad school full time.

Meaning.

I’m not around all that fucking much.

Who could ask for a better fucking tenant?

Oh.

And I don’t have any pets and I don’t complain about the dog that you got a year ago that barks and whines and cries and then gets yelled at for barking and whining and crying.

I don’t know what is worse.

The barking or the yelling at the dog to stop barking.

Considering the year of great noise I should get a goddamn discount of the rent.

Ugh.

Anyway.

I took in what she was saying and let her do the talking, I was in shock and also trying really hard to smile and nod and not say anything to just listen, to absorb information.

I was also in my scooter jacket about to get on my scooter and go ride across town to my internship, I couldn’t process what was happening.

Which was probably a good thing, I didn’t get argumentative, I didn’t freak out on her.

I did find a silent, hot core of anger later, but more about that at another time.

She explained that she’d gotten her re-financement and was going to be doing a major remodel on her house, ripping out the kitchen and the bathroom in her unit, putting in a deck, building another in-law in the back yard, pulling out the kitchen in my unit and making it a one bedroom with a bath (and maybe a hot plate), and that she needed me to move out so that she could move into my unit while the remodel was being done on her unit.

I quietly congratulated her on the refinance and asked again about the move out date, September 1st, the 15th at the latest, she needed to know as soon as possible when I was going to move out so that she could get all of her contractors lined up and ready to go.

Oh.

Ok.

Glad to hear that you need me to hustle.

Good information.

I’m only deep diving into the most expensive city to live in for rentals in the United States with a dearth of options, where closets get rented as studios, and people curtain off living rooms for extra bedrooms, where adults live in dorms with shared bathrooms and communal spaces that are marketed towards tech kids in the FiDi and Mission districts.

Sure.

No problem.

Let me get right on that.

I decided to cry instead when I got to supervision.

Oh!

And hey, she also noted, you can pay your last months rent from your deposit if that helps you consolidate your cash to get into a new place.

Hmmm.

Thanks.

I think.

Don’t you owe me the deposit back with interest, isn’t that what you told me when I moved in, “I’ll be putting this in an account that will gather interest and I’ll give you the deposit plus the interest when you move out, just make sure you give me a 30 day notice.”

See.

This is where it gets tricky for me.

I never signed a lease.

I live in an illegal in-law unit.

It has a kitchen with a full size working gas range and a full size refrigerator, but no window and no ventilation.

I cook and open up the back door to ventilate.

I am also pretty damn certain that she didn’t pull permits to do the work on the in-law when it was remodeled, but I’m not 100% certain.

What I am certain of, however, is that in her nice, sweet, off-handed way she was manipulating me into thinking I was getting a deal and that she was being kind to me.

Oh, and you don’t have to pay for July’s rent either.

And while that’s a lovely offer, I think that you, madam, are not within your rights to push me out, at least not without a written notice, or some sort of compensation.

So.

I got myself onto the San Francisco Tenants Union webpage.

They have open drop in hours and I will be going to get myself some counseling to see what my rights are.

I may not have a signed contract, I may not have a lease, but I had a verbal agreement and over four and a half years of cashed checks with “June rent and utilities” written into the memo.

I have a paper trail.

And I know I have rights.

I just don’t know exactly what they are.

But I will.

And when I do.

Watch out.

I am mad and I am not going to be manipulated into rolling over.

I am going to move.

That is going to happen.

But I am going to do it in a way that advocates for my rights.

I am not going to get pushed out.

So.

Yeah.

If you hear of anything for rent in San Francisco.

Not Berkeley or Oakland or in the East Bay or over in Marin.

IN SAN FRANCISCO.

Do me a favor and let me know.

Thanks!

 

 

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Future Tripping

March 6, 2014

Does not suit me.

I can’t figure it out and I am going to just have to let it go.

I got asked to work early on Friday, which is apropos, as I will be leaving early to go to 850 Bryant and contest my bicycle ticket.

Plea?

Not guilty.

I did not run the red sir, I just slowly meandered through the intersection after looking both ways.

I swear.

Gah.

Tonight on my ride home I had the privilege of going slow, I mean I don’t need a ticket right before I go contest the other, and got to see a drive, without signalling, whip a bitch in the middle of the intersection on Irving at 22nd while also on the phone.

And why am I going to court?

Ugh.

So, nope I won’t also be going to the DMV before work on Friday.  I don’t believe there will be enough time.

I mean, there’s the off-chance that there might, but it will be tight and I don’t then want to rush off to work, again, avoiding rushing until I get through the court date.

So, no motorcycle written test this Friday.

I am bummed.

But it will happen and it just means that not this weekend shall I be scooter’ing off into the sunset.

I actually dreamt that I was riding my scooter through the Presidio this morning.

That was the dream that I was having when I woke up.

It was very clear and I could smell the Eucalyptus trees and the sharp sweet smell of the bark peeling down from the trunks.

I guess you could say I am focused on the scooter, at least my sub-conscious is.

One of the mom’s asked me today if I had gotten my license yet and I told her I had not, the conundrum being that I am always working during the time the DMV is open.

She said that I should make an appointment and that they would cover the time.

Duh.

I have vacation days still.

Ask for a morning off.

I can’t for next Monday, mom’s got a dentist appointment, but I am going to see if  perhaps I can for the week following, that should be enough heads up for everyone.  I also wouldn’t have to take the whole day off.

Or, maybe I would.

I could see my friend who I am getting the scooter from, give him another payment, and pick up the scooter, after, of course, successfully finishing the written test.

I may just do that.

Trying to figure it out.

Even though I know that I am not the best at that.

It is not doing me any bad waiting a little longer either.

I have a bicycle.

It works great.

And it didn’t rain, much, on me today while I did my commute.

A little sprinkle right  at 5:30 p.m. as I was navigating my way from Cole Valley to the Inner Sunset, but by the time I was heading home, it was cleared up.

Yeah, I think I am going to do that, I will see if I can make an appointment for the Monday of the 24th or the 17th.  I can just take the morning off and go back to the Cole Valley gig and do it that way.

Good gravy.

I just tried to go into the website and do just that, set up an appointment, but the damn site is down on “March 5th for repairs to the system”.

Oh.

I see.

Future tripping.

Bring it back to today.

What is going on right now and what has happened and what can I do here with the rest of my evening.

I set up a photo blog post tonight, look here, with some photographs I took earlier on a walk about with the charges.   I had fun with the boys and the eldest is practising his jumping.

Very adorable.

The little boy reunion was a lot of shoving and pushing and hugging and waving and taking food from the other and sliding and demands for being picked up, and snuggles and more hugs and kisses and walks and Golden Gate kids playground.

And creepy, spooky, super meth’ed out bozo bag lady getting off the bus at the stop on Haight Street right next to the Whole Foods.

We were trying to pass, and the double stroller can be a big thing to manuever, but it doesn’t help when crazy meth lady is doing her jitterbug dance of tweak.

One of the things I love about the double stroller is that the boys each have their own separate seat area and cover awning, so if one is asleep, like the smallest one was, I can recline his seat and drop the awning down over his head for undisturbed rest.

Unless there is gross homeless party in the park meth happening, dread headed nasty piece actually reached into the stroller to push up the hood and coo over the baby.

Back the fuck up bitch.

I almost hit her.

I pushed her hand off the stroller hood and jammed by, I was actually a little shocked, I have had a lot of homeless kids and bums try to interact with the boys, but it was the first time one of them had gotten that close to either of them.

There’s a lot of homeless kids around the park and I mostly ignore them and say, “thank you God for not having me be a homeless kid in the park today with a dog,” under my breath.

You think I kid?

I do not.

I have been a homeless kid with a dog.

I don’t ever want to go back there again.

Although I loved the hell out of Layla, the border collie I had with Elliot down in Florida when we were exploring what homelessness looks like at age 17 and 19, outside of Miami, in Homestead.

I am not about to go there again.

No thank you.

So, if all I have to complain about today is that I don’t have an appointment made yet to get my motorcycle license, I can safely say, that today was a good day.

And it was.


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