I hate renting. I hate it with a passion that burns in my very soul (wow - haven't used THAT one in a while!)

Last week the couple that rents one of the "guest cottages" on this property told us that the landlady had called and said she was coming either Wednesday or Thursday. I cleaned like crazy, even though I'd heard before that she was coming and she didn't show up. But she finally showed up on the Thursday afternoon - only giving me a 1/2hr's notice (which is illegal, I believe). I could tell she thought the house was a mess. Gee, I have 3 kids, including 2 toddlers who make tornados look like gentle breezes... what a shock!

She asked about who we'd had doing the lawn (it's huge and we don't have the time or resources to do it ourselves) and I said we'd had her guy doing it, but when we found out he was charging twice as much as we'd been led to believe we cancelled the service. This was the end of August and the lawn hasn't been cut since then. It's not exactly gorgeous, but it's just shaggy more than anything. I mean, it's NOVEMBER for Pete's sakes!

Yesterday her realtor called. Because we found this place at the last minute, she was also our realtor, which is not an ideal situation, but it had worked out all right at the time. She said that Mrs. G (the 75-year-old landlady) had called her all upset because the grass was "up to her waist" and so L, the realtor, asked if this was true. I told her that it was unequivocally NOT true. It is MAYBE 6-7 inches long at this point. I asked if she meant the gardens, which were in a complete mess when we got here, and I wasn't about to pay for landscapers to fix HER mess. L said no, Mrs G had said the grass.

On top of that, L said that Mrs. G felt it was OUR responsibility to have the chimney and stoves cleaned if we wanted to use them this winter. Bull! They're part of the damn heating system. I don't know what we're going to end up doing, but this has just pissed both Hal and I off immensely. We already wanted to go home. Now I think we've decided that as soon as Hal can get a GOOD job at home we're out of here. I just don't care anymore. His company can just try and get the moving expenses out of us. We can stay here and go broke, or go home where he can get a good job, and I can actually WORK if I need/want to. I just told Hal that we're not going home to just any job. It has to be a good one, to at least make some part of this experience worthwhile.

Blech. I am NEVER renting again... I seem to recall saying that after we bought our first house... I just hope we don't have problems getting a mortgage when we go back and end up having to wait because he'll be starting a new job. Blech. I hate money. Blech.

Did I say blech?

I find myself once again fighting a demon that I thought I had long since eaten into submission. It's a very frustrating place to be. I have been trying to do this the healthy way this time, and with quite a lot of success, but as soon as I let fear get to me I was the same messed-up eighteen-year-old again.

I never really told anyone about it back then. I don't know if anyone even knew. I guess being an actress has its advantages - makes you a good liar when you feel you need to be. Ironically, looking back now the things I was dealing with at the time seem inconsequential to adult problems but at the time, being my drama queen self, they were monumental. And really, 1993-1994 kinda sucked. I really let myself get treated like crap by too many people.

I'm realizing now how much of a "Type A" personality I am. I don't know if I was back then. I didn't feel like it, but maybe I wanted more control than I actually had. Being here, with no possiblity of working even if I want to, with no control over our financial situation, no control over when or if we go back to Canada... Heck, we're renting so I don't really even have control over the house, which is basically my domain at this point.

I don't know why I'm writing about this today. This blog wasn't intended for this kind of stuff. Feels good to get it out, though. Maybe now I can just let it go.

Or not.

Blech.