2002-06-18 - 8:10 p.m.

Because I'm breaking my lease (I have it until December) I am responsible for the rent unless I (or the management company) gets a tenant and there is no interruption in their cash flow. And it's no secret that my management company is staffed with a bunch of fat and happy slackers who work approximately 2.5 hours a day. Therefore, I'm taking matters into my own hands. But I never expected so many calls at once - I'm hoping it will be easy. Looks pretty good so far. But I'm showing it every night this week, which means I have to get up early and clean my shit up every morning, and keep all my personal shit hidden. Which is not as easy as it sounds, in such a small space.

Anyway, I had a weird thing happen today. A girl called me, at work, from her cell phone. She asked if she could see it, and when I asked her who referrer her, she told me she got it from a website. I made a time to meet her, and then called my agent to see if he had somehow gotten a previously unheard of burst of energy and listed it on some website. Nope. Called the broker - hey, did you happen to get the apartment up on a website before you've even seen it? Nope. So then I got all freaked out and decided that she could possibly be casing the apartment for a break in, and so, in my infinite wisdom, I stopped on the way home and asked Evan, my hulking 250 pounds of muscle neighbor, to come up with me till she got there. I thought that, if she was in fact casing the place, she'd be deterred by the sight of him on my couch.

And then she rang the doorbell, and I went downstairs, and she was just the cutest little thing. Clearly young, and professional, and she further explained that she had gotten the listing from a friend of hers, who had only the address, and she assumed it was one of the listings he had gotten for her off a website, and so she came to the building and saw the management plate on the wall, and so she called. And so they gave her my number. So all was well, and she really liked it, and I felt like a giant, paranoid, moron. And Evan went back to the store, laughing, and told me to call him if I need him to scare off any more 85 lb. advertising executives.

I've been stressing about the move the last day or so... woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night last night. Haven't been eating, feeling jittery from coffee, and unable to focus on anything for very long. Stressing about the commitment, I suppose, under the guise of money and renting this apartment and moving. All of which are valid, of course. I am BROKE. Broker than I've ever been, I think. And I was sweating the bills, and envisioning being unable to rent this apartment and having to pay two rents with money I don't have. My fabulous boyfriend, however, reminded me today that he owes me a considerable sum of money for half of the brokers fee. And he'll pay the first months rent. By this time next month, I'll be fine. I'll rent this place, and get my security deposit back, and next month I get my first commission check, as well as a free and clear paycheck. Right now every dollar in my check is spent, and there's no cushion for my regular bills. And I came home tonight, and added up the bills due for this apartment, and they aren't nearly as bed as I'd imagined, at 3 a.m. in bed. So maybe I'll sleep tonight.

Because Lord knows, I need to be able to TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. *sigh*

For the record, the boyfriend and I are discussing my fears ad nauseum, and after every conversation I feel so much better. Problem is, I can't seem to hold on to that feeling for long ~ there's always another issue laying in wait. But really, I can do this.

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