What now? Without good reason, I swung the car around and turned down my old street. Within seconds I reached my old home. There it was, looking so cute, with a Christmas tree on the curb. Someone lives there, I thought, pulling over and reaching for my phone. So why am I calling my old landlady?
I dialed the number I'd written down in case I were going to fill out an application for an apartment and she answered on the first ring. "Do you remember me?" I asked her, "I used to live in your duplex."
"Long black hair? Wrote all your checks in pink? Yes of course."
Leaving out the grueling details, I explained to her that I lived with my ex-boyfriend and by some chance, was my old 1 bedroom available?" I stared at the Christmas tree.
"You know what? The girl in the 1 bedroom is moving to the 2 bedroom. It'll be available on February 1." She went on to say what a blessing this was and how she'd love to have me back as tears rolled down my cheeks. Oh thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I promise I won't play my gothfag music as loud and create an Ophelia 2.0 situation.
The rent's gone up a hundred bucks, but she's put in new floors and a new roof (which is good, there was the occasional woodland creature in the other one) and a new refrigerator. I'll have to reacquaint myself with the freight train across the street and re-field the "are you going to college?" questions, but I will deal.
My sister says I'm Eternal Sunshining on the Spotless Mind the last 3 years of my life. I wouldn't say that. Well. Maybe just the roommate part.