|I turned in the keys to my apartment today!|
|...and threw rump at the housing authority!|
A few days ago, I wrote a post about some of my experiences with government entities. In case anyone didn't believe me, let me tell you what happened when I turned in my keys today.
I happily slid my keys through the slot to the receptionist at the office and said, "I've moved and I'm turning in my keys."
"Did you talk this over with ---?"
"Who is ----?" I said in confusion. Did she think I had a roommate?
"You know who --- is. She's the manager of the blah, blah, blah."
"No, I DON'T know her." In fact, I've never met the woman as far as I know.
With disdain, "Well, you should have discussed this with her before you did this."
*Blood starting to boil, left eye starting to twitch* "You mean to tell me that I have to get permission from the housing authority before I can move!"
"Well, you should discuss these things with us."
WTC?! "So, you ARE telling me that I have to get PERMISSION from y'all to move?!" *Trying not to cuss. Trying to stay out of jail.*
By then, I think my blood pressure was 400/300. My head was pounding!
She quickly slid a form through the slot for me to fill out. One of the questions was, "Reason for leaving?" Let's see:
- "Because y'all suck." No, I can't write that.
- "Because I'm tired of y'all having your hand up my..." No, no, no.
- "Because I'd rather be homeless than live here." Yes? No.
- "Because I would like to wash my car and put borders around my flower beds." True, but I can't write that either.
- My answer? "Because it was time."