Stop the goddamn presses. Last stop on the self-pity train. Holy fucking shit. I repeat: holy fucking shit.
I thought I was moving to Denver after Christmas. Had only told a few people so far. Good thing I hadn\’t told more.
After three years (THREE YEARS) on the waiting list for housing assistance, after telling my case manager just this past Friday that Social Services had laughed at me because the waiting list was so long and nigh near impossible for single young people, my mom called me this morning saying I had a letter from the housing commission.
A letter from the Housing Opportunities Commission. Three years ago I put my name in for their public services lottery — need I point out how insulting it is that they can call it The Lottery? — to be chosen to sit on their wait list for subsidized housing. The lottery only opens every few years, so the past three years I have waited until I barely even think about it. Thousands of people wait.
Today, I won the lottery.
Despite Bush\’s major cuts to the housing program this past February with more on the way, I made it past the waiting period. I now have a voucher. I\’m gonna have a home of my own.
MY OWN HOME. Where my rent is $150 a month or less. And I can stay in the sleeping study program at Hopkins. And work with DA. And raise some bloody District hell. And not have to whore myself out so much. And get a service dog. And keep being able to see my grandpa.
OH MY GOD.
Today is one of the best days of my life. Hence the new icon.
Sara, you now have a place to stay without an excess of male hormone in the air when you come visit. 🙂 I don\’t even mind handing over the keys for a weekend and staying with a friend. Oooh, the freedom! Oooh, the luxury! Oooh, the privacy!
Excuse me, I have to go jerk off now.
Tonight, we are celebrating, no? Back room at the Black Cat to hear Rebecca\’s new group, then moving on to the dirty sounds (but alas, not dirty people) at Local 16. (Aaron, that\’s at 1602 U Street if you haven\’t found it yet.)
