Housing

My problems with Utah started before I even moved in. I was living in Vegas, looking for a place to live before moving. I managed to find one, and pretty close to work. That was the hardest part. My work is pretty far away from most of the housing and the ones near it tend to be owned by old folks that don't much like my kind (Am I talking about race or age? You'll never know). I was told the room was mine if I wanted it and I was ecstatic. I informed her that I'd be moving in two weeks. I needed to wrap up a few things and then I'd move in. If she had any questions or needed anything, she had my contact info and needed hesitate to contact me.

My father needed medicine so I traveled half-way across the world to give it to him (the medicine he needs to live is prohibitively  expensive in Brazil. In the US, not so much). It was not a fun trip. I had the worst bowel movements in the history of mankind on a 9 hour flight. I've had some awful experiences in life but few compare to that.

One week later, I made a quick call to check in only to discover she had given my room away. At first, I didn't understand. I told her that I was the person she was renting the room to but my heart sank when she told me the next person had moved in already. She reneged on our deal, a housing deal no less. What if I had moved up that weekend and not the next? I'd be homeless! Who the fuck does something like that?! Only in Utah, folks.

What a son of a bitch. Or daughter of a bitch, I guess. Or maybe it could be son, I did meet a transgender person. Who knows how many of those people are living in Utah. And, now that I think about it, son of a bitch is more an insult to a person's mother rather than the person. I mean, just because you're a child of a bitch doesn't make me a bitch. Even if bitchiness was genetic you'd be half a bitch.

Because of that, I'm forced to live in this house. All the experiences here. Depending on how well that e-book does, perhaps it will all be worth it.