The prison bars are yielding.

The end is in sight!!

Not the end of the world. How many time has that been prophesized through humankind? And been proven wrong, obviously; otherwise, you we all wouldn’t be here.

The end of which I speak is to my living situation, a rental room in Jerry’s (not real name) house.

Five months it’ll be by the time I get out at month’s end. About 3 months too long. Seriously.

What I’ve learned in life the hard way:

Unlike wine, situations do not improve with time and aging.

Repeat: Situations do not improve with time and aging.

If they did, we’d still all be living with our parents!

Lowdown on the Fly

Roommate (and owner of the house) Jerry is a prick. He is NOT Mr. Nice Guy despite appearances. Unless you catch him on the right day. He’s very moody. Like a man with PMS on steroids. You might think he’s gay for his moodiness but he’s not.

His verbal jabs are passive-aggressive, which is more dangerous than outright aggressive.

I could go on but for what purpose? I need him out of my life and to be out of his house. The feeling is mutual.

Remember: Nothing that’s over improves with age. Ever. No situation. No relationship. No job. Nothing. Let it go. Move on. Get and be free.

Uh. Oh.

I gave my 30-days’ notice. Risky as I’ve no idea of my next lodging or — more importantly — whether I’ll even find one! I’ve had it up to here {line across eyeballs} with how fucking difficult housing’s become in my town. Scarce and uber-expensive! Prescott’s becoming a town of Haves and Have-Nots. Like San Francisco back in the 1980s.

Uh. Oh. {redflagredflagredflag}

Fix the Problem

My dad’s dictate. Fix The Problem. no emotion. Just Fix the Problem.

Long is the list of Every Possible and Doable (Housing) Solution Under the Sun that I’m pursuing.

Including … {wait for it} … temp housing including airbnb!


Tonight’s my first stay in an airbnb! One night, here in town, mere miles from where I lodge, to check it out as possible lodgings should I not secure something by moth’s end.

And get this!

You can shower in the evening past 9 o’clock!!!!!!

Can you believe it?!?!

“Jerry” my roommate, he’s prohibited me from showering after 9 p.m. The water, he says, will bother him since my bathroom adjoins his bedrooms.

Meanwhile, he can slam as many doors and closets and such as he wishes at 8 a.m. while I’m dead asleep.

Fuck this.

I’m done.

I’m done with “Jerry.” Done with this whole fucking prison.


Get me the fuck outta this place!

Into ANYTHING better!


Homey. By my definition. = safe. spacious. privacy.


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