A homeless Okie in the city, working at an archive devoted to a famous homeless Okie in the city: irony, thou art a heartless bitch.
As Broke Diaries Ang would say, peep this...
Long story short (although the long story will be told), my guaranteed housing til Aug. 9 was shortened to Aug. 3 on a few days' notice. Then, the offer of interim emergency housing was also reneged, leaving me, not to mention BB, with nowhere to sleep on three hours' notice.
What in the actual eff.
Grateful as I am for the awesome free housing I've had thus far, it's difficult for me to comprehend that I was ousted twice soley for someone else's convenience. The first time because another expected guest at the Kisco house decided she didn't want to share the place (it's 3 floors, and I stay in the basement...), and the second when my boss's husband decided putting me up in their basement would interfere with their four-year-old's birthday festivities this weekend. Thus, two people feeling awkward equals me homeless.
My other boss thankfully stepped in and offered us her couches in Manhattan this weekend, so at least BB had accommodations her last night in NY. I'm playing cat nurse while my boss is gone til Sunday afternoon, at which point I have to vacate the premises for... well, nowhere. I have nowhere to go. Couchsurfing ads have gone unanswered (understandably -- it's just not reasonable to spring requests on people three days before you need a place), and I don't know anyone here.
The most infuriating part (well, maybe not) was the surprising lack of indignation on the part of my bosses:
"Can't you go stay with that guy in White Plains again?"
"No, he's in Sweden."
"You can't go stay at his empty place?"
"It's an apartment. How would I... no."
... as if temporary homelessness is an everyday and easily resolvable problem, and I'm silly for being concerned about it.
Well, maybe it does seem like that for them. Boss #1 suggests I book a hostel in NYC (which runs about $50 a night, plus the $25 daily train commute). Meanwhile I'm scheming on how to camp out without being detected in the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Boss #2 pointed out a hobo jungle by the train tracks on the way here as a point of interest; I marked it down as a point of possible future residence.
All this while I'm booking a flight from D.C. to Nash while contemplating the unexpectedly high rent that D.C. woman has decided to charge me. I also took off my shirt in the aisle of a Salvation Army thrifty this afternoon (no, not to raise funds! Get your mind out of the gutter! There's just no dressing rooms in there), so things have taken a turn for the crappy. Including this entry, which should've been about last effing Friday night, which featured such highlights as flirting with TrageJake, missing the last train home at 2 a.m., and passing a sleepless night on Times Square benches and McDonald's.
I just... wha... cccchhhhh....
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