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The Suspense is Killing Me, Or Waiting to Be Killed Is Killing Me, Or Something
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So tonight I have to have the "Talk" with Shazia. No, not that talk. (Although she only lives with her husband on weekends, so you gotta wonder what her mom told her about that.) The "Dammit, you told me you were moving out three months ago, why the f--- are you still here?" talk. Though I'm hoping it will come out more eloquently than that. But who knows, I'm about at the end of my rope on this one.

I was fine about all this until about two hours ago, perhaps because that was when my other problem (my phone line going down again) was fixed. Now I have nothing else to think about but what I'm going to say to her and what the heck I'm going to do if she point blank refuses to give me a reasonable move-out date. I'm subletting from her, technically, and my landlords know Shazia better than me so I don't think they'll be much help if I were to appeal to their authority. But Shazia's too passive agressive to pull something so confrontational. I'm actually more worried she'll pull something like moving out and leaving the bags and boxes of extraneous junk she's got piled around the apartment for us to deal with. At least then she'd be gone.

I've never really had to do something like this. I hate telling people things I know they won't want to hear. Anne volunteered to back me up, but I told her I wanted to try dealing one on one with Shazia, since I've been living with her all this time. This is partly because I don't want to make Shazia feel like we're ganging up on her, and partly because I want her to understand that I personally have a problem with her staying any longer, as opposed to the new girls moving in and then "hijacking" the apartment by getting me on their side.

Obviously I am not capable of thinking about much else right now. I will come back and tell you about my vacation when this is finally over.


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