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2022-06-30 - 7:24 pm

Dear reader:

I got word in the mail today that I'll be getting my disability check deposited into my bank account starting tomorrow. Couldn't haven't come at a better time.

Yesterday, all the girls who lived at BPW-at least the ones who weren't at work or sick-were brought together for a meeting.

It seems that Covid did a number on the generosity of the rich people who give to TLP, and they're closing down all the thrift stores starting at the end of summer. Also starting tomorrow, they're being more harsher on how things are run here. I was given a new rulebook by e-mail, and it's a good thing my two years in this program are almost up, because now I'm required to take financial literacy classes, I have to *make my fucking bed* by eight, and I'm not allowed to use the laundry room before six am and after 10 pm.

It sounds like petty griping, but let me tell you this: part of the reason why I was looking forward to living at BPW was that I *didn't* have to make the bed. Another one was the joy of being able to do my laundry any time I wanted. Now I can't either one of those things.

And I have looked into rents in the area. A *one bedroom* place costs-on average-about $1,000. That means that I'll either have to move to the next county over or have roommates for the rest of my life.

Speaking of roommates, Theresa has taken to being passive aggressive. Apparently, I'm too loud when I get up in the morning to make breakfast. Instead of *telling* me, she has decided to retaliate by being even *louder* than I apparently am. Also, I feel I have learned more about her personal life just by hearing her yap on the phone, which apparently is glued to her ear when she's not working. Once I heard a rant about some apparent trouble she was having with the IRS. Another time, it was apparently advice to another woman about grooming the privates. For two days, I heard her bickering from her girlfriend, apparently over whether they were exclusive or not. I should add that there's a inch gap of both bedroom doors and the floor. And for some reason she *has* to use the speakerphone. All. The. Time. Oh, and she has an obnoxious laugh, too.

I'm more worried about where I'm gonna go next. I never learned how to drive, nor do I have a car, and I have stuff to transport. It's not a lot of stuff, but I still need a car to transport it all. I can't fit everything in the basket of my bike, and I'm not sure I can afford a storage unit. I was lucky to be able to live a city away from the storage unit that mom paid for the last time, but I'm unsure of where I'll be going to next. If I had a choice in the matter, I'd never have a roommate ever again, but it looks like I'll be stuck with that option for a while now. Fuck.




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