February 11th, 1978
What has happened is this: Tuesday Dennis called me at work to tell me that his matters with Sandoz Reality had been settled and that he was going to call them and inform them that he would be giving up the apartment and his roommate wanted it. He called back a few hours later to inform me that Sandoz had said quite simply that the apartment could not be passed on to his roommate because there was a long waiting list of people who had applied for apartments here.
RESULT: In the dead of winter I now have to find a place to live. Fast. I have no money saved. The simple fact of moving again is sheer trauma to me. I have no enthusiasm to do this.
Finding an apartment seems like such an impossibility to me. I know this city so well– and I know that the apartment market is tight. The type of apartment that I need is a bright, sunny one bedroom that allows pets. I cannot bear to live in a dreary apartment in a dirty building with long hallways full of cooking smells. I cannot afford to pay the 3 to 4 hundred dollars a month that the kind of apartment that I need will cost. I know that there are other places– wonderul places in the city that I can afford. But those places you find by accident– sheer luck. You don’t deliberately seek them out or find them in the newspaper. Like this place where I am now– you don’t pick up the newspaper and find a one bedroom for $90 a month.
I think of moving to Florida. I plot fantasies of getting back with Richard and moving to Sandy’s house on Big Pine Key. Richard came over this afternoon. I cry a lot and watch him and wonder if I could be his lover again.
The rug has been pulled out from under me and I feel crazy.
Something’s got to happen.