"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over analyzing
a situation' trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened...
or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on."
Okay, well, FUCK! Last night I found a note taped to my front door, or I should say, taped to the front door of a cottage I have been renting for 14 years, giving me 30 days to GET OUT. Why am I being evicted? Because, as it turns out, this cottage has been an illegal apartment since 1965. No permits, no verified inspection certificate, just a "cute, cozy" illegal dwelling! End of story! So, I have been paying for 14 years, and making minor repairs, and treating this place like I owned it, only to be kicked out of it, with 30 days to find not only a place we can afford... in Alameda County... but a place that will allow my three cat children.
My family. My babies.
In two months the owner of my cottage will be tearing my my cottage down, as if it never was. As if all the memories we made here... never were... God... like it never fucking existed. It will be like I never put up pretty blue curtains, or painted the walls cornflower blue. My kitchen was painted apricot, or was it? And my bathroom soft lettuce green. Elvis spent his last day in my arms here, and I spent so many afternoons listening to the distant Ethereal Musician playing his saxophone I can't even count them. I lived here when 9/11 happened. On that day there wasn't a single sound anywhere in the neighborhood, except my distant Ethereal Musician playing that tune on that lovely saxophone...
the tune was... America. And just hearing it, made me feel, safer somehow.
The most frightening thing of all, is having to get rid of my babies.
I can't survive that. I won't survive that.
Later today I am contacting a lawyer, to see what my legal options are.
After that... we'll see.
Right now, 3:15 AM Pacific Time, all I can do is cry.