(Warning: You're going to have to allow me some emotional self-indulgence, here. I want to share a touching experience with you.)
So, for those who may or may not have picked up on the "subtleties" of my personality by now, I do have, all joking aside, some stupid, little emotional problems that get the best of me sometimes. The doctors have their fancy names for it, but I like to call it "The Weepies." It's cute, and it usually downplays my bad days enough to avoid undue concern from friends and family. But mostly, it's just cute.
Worst cartoon pitch ever, right here. Your move, Fox Network...
Basically, all these fancy brain dysfunctions mean, is that when things are a little wrong, I usually think they are very, very wrong. And unfortunately, that means when things are legitimately, very, very wrong, I look a little something like this:
The most legitimately very, very bad thing that happened to me lately hit me right in the heart, the trust bone, and the wallet.
Very long story short, due to another legitimate bad thing involving insurance, I was short on rent money for October, and had to borrow some from my Marmie to make rent. I also couldn't get to the bank in time the day I paid rent, and subsequently left half cash, half check, secured in a sealed envelope, inside of their safety deposit box. (Key word: Safety. I have, since this incident, gone back to test it. There is no way into this box without a key.)
Not the smartest move, I know, but allow me to explain myself: I've rented from my current landlord for about 3 or 4 years now, and have absolutely adored them. I recommended them to all of my friends, never had any issues with any of the staff, and had all maintenance requests (no matter how large or small) always resolved within a timely manner. They're even nice enough to not really care about late fees, on the occasions I pay past due. Maybe it's because I've been there so long or something, I don't know. In any event, I've established a certain trust and fondness for this place over my stay here.
So... you can imagine my surprise when my check takes longer to clear, and upon calling to make sure they received my rent, they "magically" have no record of it arriving.
Since I dropped it off by hand, and made sure it went securely into their deposit box, and since there is absolutely no way into that deposit box without a key... that obviously leaves only one option as to what happened to my check, and the cash that accompanied it: Someone in my landlord's office pocketed my borrowed cash, destroyed my check and all the other evidence, and left me high and dry.
Suffice to say, I'm a little heart broken. This house I've come to love over the past few years seems so much less like a home, now. Not only that, the office refused to absorb a portion of the cost. I mean, I can't say I blame them; As a manager, I suppose you have to side with your staff, and if the customer has no evidence, they also have no means of retribution. It's still just hard to believe that people can be so shameless, especially this close to the holidays. Personally, I feel bad if I take an extra mint while leaving a restaurant. What kind of person can take what they obviously know is someone's rent money from a stranger, just like that?
This situation would stress and depress just about anyone. But remember, kids. I'm not just anyone. I have The Weepies! So, to be honest, there has been a lot more crying, hiding, sobbing, sleeping, and generally hiding from the world than I'd like, as of late.
Today, unfortunately, was another rotten day. My new (new-new-new insurance, since we've had to switch four motherfucking times at work this year) got rejected at CVS for the medicine that keeps The Weepies in check. I only had the temporary card, though, and was hoping to come home and find my new card in the mail, so I could go fill my Rx. No dice.
I sat in the car, crying, holding my other pieces of mail and feeling overwhelmed. Without insurance, anti-Weepie pills cost $200 out of pocket. I already had to do this once last month when my company let our insurance lapse. I was looking at my third strike in one month's time (in financially-getting-screwed-over terms,) and just broke down, right there in my parking lot. After a minute, I looked down at the mail I was still holding, and noticed a larger number of envelopes than usual. One looked like the invitation, another, possibly some sneaky attempt to get my attention by a bill collector of some kind.
But then, I started noticing the addressees.
(It should be noted that these are old, dear friends who I do not see nearly as much as I'd like.
Some live closer, some live as far away as Texas. Some I haven't seen in months, and some, in a couple years.
But generosity and amazing friendships know no boundaries... )
One was from Paul, one of my oldest, dearest friends since highschool, with whom I've been through many a trial and tribulation, and also a good friend of mine, Lacey, who is one of the funnest, most huggable people you could ever meet. (Also, she has one hell of a beautiful singing voice.)
One was from Hannah and Shane. I met the former through the latter, and simply put, she's an absolute sweetheart. I've rarely seen her without her signature warm, sincere, award-winning smile. And Shane, my tall, wonderful, hysterical, intelligent friend is so amazing, that I once named a cat after him.
The invitation-looking deal was from my married friends: Kristin, with a beautiful voice and a heart of gold, and Brian, who is very close to being a male equivalent of myself in terms of humor and random fun, but kicks much more ass than I do at being a grown-up.
The last one - my bill collector suspect, as there was no name in the addressee area- came from Lacey's mom, Janet, who I've gotten to know better over the past couple of years. She might be my biggest, or at least my personal favorite fan, for the simple fact that she reminds me to stay creative. (And when you stress like I do, that can be easy to forget, especially as of late.)
Some came with a card or a note, others just a happy reminder in the "memo" section to keep my chin up, and to remember I had friends. Oh, what "memo" section, you ask? The memo section of the checks these friends sent me, to help me recoup my losses from my dishonest landlord.
I was already teary-eyed before I opened these correspondences over my insurance nonsense. But with each envelope I opened, I became more and more hysterical, but in a good way. (Though my neighbors, who were outside and watching the scene unfold, looked quite frightened.) I have a way of associating with wonderful people, who have done some amazing things for me over the years... but this was simply too much. It was so desperately needed, not only in the financial sense, but in the sense that I was reminded - and it couldn't have happened on a better day- that I'm not alone. It's the biggest dose of mental, emotional, financial, and spiritual help I've receive in recent memory from my friends, and possibly ever.
I don't know how to end this post. I don't know how to thank my friends enough, for their generosity, their concern, and their friendship. I don't know when my insurance bullshit will go away, or if karma will visit my landlord, or when the Weepies will gtfo of my face. (Yeah, I know they're kind of adorable, but fuck them, seriously.) But I do know that I have amazing friends, who have always been supportive of me, whether I wanted to accept that support or not, and I can't thank them enough for reminding me of this important fact.
I needed this end, to this day, more than anyone can possibly know. ♥
Share this story with your friends, will you? Spread the feels. <3
Update: And apparently, this was all organized by another sweet, amazing friend of mine, Shane's brother, Rob. His heart is as big as his hair is curly, and that man has some beautiful, curly locks, let me assure you. Bobert... I'm beyond blessed to have you as a friend. I've always thought that you're one of the sweetest gentlemen I know, and now, I have proof for the world to see. I seriously, seriously love you. <3
((Also - If there's anything else in the mail, and you haven't been mentioned, I will provide updates accordingly. This is just what I had in the mailbox for today.))
Another update: It's so crazy and flattering to me that people are still thinkin' about me and wanting to help defeat the powers of landlord evil.
Myyyyyy bologna has a first name, it's A-N-G-I-E My bologna has a second, name, it's (privacy censor) Angie (Censored) has a way With whisking all my bluuues awaaaayyy..... (Thanks, buddy. <3 )