The rug got pulled out from under our feet on the apartment. Meghan, the fourth roommate who I work with, made the decision that she couldn’t afford it. Which is fine. Except that she didn’t tell us till the night before the
lease signing. Mind you, she had known how much the thing would cost for a week, at the least.
I’m not pissed, as much as I am frustrated. The place was literally ours, then snatched away by cruel fate. I must have
punched a baby or something, and not realized it.
In other news, I still love it here.
Once we get an apartment, not only will people be visiting me, but I will be visiting you. You know who you are, Southern California.
justinª