I’m in a mad dash to get out of my old apartment. I haven’t lived there in almost a month and a half. During that time, I’ve been using up my security deposit and half-assedly moving my shit around the block to my new digs. Since it’s so fucking hot, things haven’t progressed that smoothly.

This inside of my apartment is hot. When I say hot I don’t mean uncomfortably sweaty… I’m talking tar and feathering hot. Napalm to the testicles hot. Crack torch to the armpit hot. Searing! What with this insanely humid bullshit I’ve been slogging through, the most I can stand to be in the place is about an hour. After that, I need to sit naked on a block of dry ice and have a little cry because the temperature in that black hole of doom is just not okay. While my recent trip to Vermont was necessary and extremely welcome, it didn’t help the situation, taking one extra weekend of pathetic labor away from me. I now have essentially two days to get the fuck out. Things are tight.

I should be able to pull it off. I really don’t have that much shit left in that god-forsaken crack den. Most everything went to the trash pile, thereby ending up all over the street after the homeless and the junkies picked through it all. Nasty. I just need to get what’s left from point A to point B then I can give up the keys and give a big, fat fuck you to that pestilential shithole from hell.

My landlord aka slumlord called me this afternoon trying to nudge me out sooner. Even though this month is paid in full, he’d like me out now, so the realtor that first got me the place can start showing it and hustle another sucker in. I have no doubt that she and the landlord will neglect to mention that the apartment has been robbed six times in two years, just like they failed to tell me it was four times in one year. I’d really like see that my landlord and that bitch realtor don’t get away with it again, but more than anything, I just want to be done with the place and never have to go back or ever walk down that street again.