My Slum Townhome

My slummy townhome is falling apart.  I am waiting for the repair people to come fix the deadbolt lock on my backdoor.  It’s almost twelve and they’ve not arrived yet.  It’s incredibly dangerous not to be able to get out of one of your doors, particularly in this high crime neighborhood.  I’ve begun applying for homes!  I might have to apply to two or three of them, and I found that many landlords now want you to pay the deposit before you get approved.  If they don’t approve you, they say they’ll refund you in 30 days.  That’s bullshit and I’m not doing it, even if it costs me a home.  A fool and their money are soon parted.

I expect it will take a while to find what I want in the Richmond area.  I just saw a house online in the near West End, and I am viewing it tomorrow.  I don’t know if it’s wise, but I can’t live this way in slumville any longer.  My last neighborhood was a white slum with tons of cray people, this one is a black slum, and I don’t know anyone.   That’s the way I want it to stay.  I suddenly woke up one morning, after my dad’s death and looked around, and at myself and the things my illness had taken away from me and I just could not face myself any longer.

Somehow, I’ve got to make my life work for me again!

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