I know apartment complexes need to enforce the rules, but whenever I see a car being booted, I feel really bad for the owner. This photo is from last year:
My car registration was due in December, but I couldn’t afford to pay for it until January. I was nervous about it, thinking my car would be booted at any moment. I don’t know how a tenant can rectify this problem with a freaking boot on the car.
Ever since I received the eviction notice (which is actually a notice to vacate, but it may as well be an eviction notice), I’ve been on edge. Waiting for a knock on my door, with the police on the other side, forcing me out of my apartment. I’m very thankful for my friend, Payne Hertz (Sean), who explained that I can’t be thrown out of my apartment until March 31st.
And then this morning, I hear a large vehicle outside, which is getting ready to tow a blue car (that looks just like mine):
I’m not what you would call presentable at this moment in time, but that didn’t stop me from hopping to the front door, slipping on some shoes, and high-tailing it outside. Not that I could have stopped this guy if he was actually towing my car.
I don’t know what I would do without my car. As I’ve said before, if or when I become homeless, it will be the only home I have.
Still, I was surprised at my acute reaction. In fact, I’m still shaking. I’m feeling that kind of fear that people who suffer from anxiety must feel all the time. That kind of fear that can make your head throb and your pain worse. I suppose it’s a fear of poverty, although in my case, there’s a little more to it.
Since I’m not a doctor, I can’t diagnose myself with PTSD. But I think my anxiety comes from my past as a pain patient. For those who are interested, that part of my story is here:
Since I’m so shaken up, I decided to do some packing today. Downsizing means deciding what’s worth keeping and how much I have to let go. Remember all those cute (but useless) nicknacks you bought at Pier 1? They were the first to go. (I don’t know what I ever saw in nicknacks — sure, they’re cute, but all they do is collect dust.)
Remember those clothes you thought you would fit into someday? Yeah, those have got to go now, too. I’ve been hanging onto my medical records for 30 years, so no doubt there’s plenty to get rid of there also.
It’s hard to worry about taking care of myself when I’m faced with eviction. I’ve already tried chocolate therapy today, but it’s not working. The only good news is that bud is currently helping me cope, along with all of my blogging friends, of course. Can I say “thank you” too much? 🙂