The not-so-fun part of moving out of a place you hate is that you still have to deal with clinically psychotic people even after you're gone. Since moving into my new place a little over a week ago, I feel like a completely different person. I didn't realize the depth of the loathing I felt for the previous house, and I notice now that for the first time in my life, I know what it's like to truly detest another human being. In order to find out if I would be getting my deposit money back this week, I took it upon myself to call my former landlord on Monday. She didn't return my call, so I called her again on Tuesday. Still no answer. So I proceeded to call her once or twice every hour or so for the rest of the day. She didn't call me back until Wednesday afternoon. The good news: she sent the check in the mail yesterday (even though I offered to go to the house and pick it up in person, to save her the hassle of mailing it). The lame news: she knocked off $150 from the deposit. In the six months I lived there, I apparently necessitated a steam cleaning of the carpet, a few spots on the wall that needed repainting, and a "deep cleaning" of the bathroom. I had cleaned everything completely when I moved out, but I was sort of expecting the cleaning issue from the bitch; I knew that no matter how clean I felt the place was, she would use her microscopic vision declare that there were air molecules all over the place.

I'm occasionally told that I'm way too nice, and that I need to take a stand during a time such as this. I nearly did, but I stopped myself before I got started. Here's why:

  • My former landlord is insane. And evil. When I tried to use reason and intelligence to explain the concept of homophobia to my folks, I failed to get very far. From that, I learned that trying to rationalize with anyone who is irrational is pretty much a waste of breath. I concluded that, were I to argue my case, evil landlady would stop payment on the check and offer me even less money back. Hence, I concluded that I should take the money and run.
  • Arguing my case would have meant talking to her more. I discovered that when you hate someone that much, the sooner you stop talking to that someone, the better off you are. I'm burning inside to just verbally rip her to shreds, but if I did, that might force me to have to deal with her more in the future, which is the last thing I want. At least now I know what crazy looks like, I'll be better able to avoid it in the future.

And in the unlikely event that I ever happen to run into her at some point in the future, I'll do the only sensible thing I can do: punch her in the face. But in the meantime, I'm far too busy basking in the glory that is freedom to live. As soon as that check arrives and I've got it in the bank, I'm declaring 'case closed' to this roommate nightmare. Ahhhh....