The Fortunate Warrior is a generous yet gullible man. I’m in my room at the Union Street house, warm and safe, but downstairs on a table is a pile of overdue bills capped with disconnect notices. I paid the bills in 2013 because I had been working, assuming that the other men would have their respective acts together and be able to take over, even pay me back their share. Alas no. Each of them have their own way of not coping, not facing that pile of bills. I told them that in 2014 I would not be able to do much, and they are following suit, by not doing much, in fact playing games of denial while time burns away.
I have long complained that this is an expensive house for what it is, what I get out of it. Privacy is rare, and entertaining my friends here is impossible. (I’ve tried – it doesn’t work.) The house is poorly maintained and a ripe kitty-cat odor is noticeable to me and my guests, but oddly not the other men of the household. I’m attracted to the house because it’s cheap. Not really – it’s expensive because it’s not a stable place. I wonder if the three of us actually have the economic capacity to make a go of it here. I’ve been here three years and I’m the only one who has made any serious money.
When the bills started to mound up I seemed to be the only one seeking solutions -What can I sell? what can I do? The others played games on the internet or slept. For the most part there has been no sense of urgency on the part of my roommates. I do have to pause here – problem solving doesn’t seem to be appropriate because I’ve done enough – after all, the bills aren’t even in my name. I’ve been paying everybody’s share. Maybe it’s time to start seriously looking for an apartment, not just online but in person. I’ve been interviewing too so I can pay for it all. If I wasn’t caretaking my roommates I could afford an apartment. Walking though my fear and maybe enduring some discomfort might be the antidote to my anger and feelings of victimization in my current housing situation.