An open letter to God:

Your Highness (or whatever you like to be called),

I have a complaint and yes, I am aware that issues of this nature should be directed to the specific department of complaints, but I have been screaming and yelling to them for about a year now and nothing has changed.

Please review with me, if you will, the past two years of my life.

Ahem…

First, you rip my from my favorite apartment by sending Spliffany back to Orlando. This would have been fine if you could have gotten me a raise or a suitable roommate. But, no…

Then you give me a pretty nice apartment with a washer and dryer and a roommate who is never home. (This was both a blessing and a curse.) And then, because she was never there anyway, when she decided to move in with her boyfriend, you force me to go on the hunt again, for an apartment.

Then, once I have finally started the process of finding a place and moving, you throw a dead guy at me. Quite literally. And he breaks my car and my back. Just in time to pack up all of my belongings (YET AGAIN) and move.

Then you give me a fantastic apartment for a pretty modest amount of money but you put it on the other side of the RIVER…which, just so you know, is NOT the ocean. (I would think that you would know these things, since you are the creator and whatnot.)

When it is time for renewal or escape, Spliffany decides to move back and we start the hunt for the perfect place (AT THE BEACH) which we find. It is huge and adorable and the neighbors didn’t seem like psychos and we love it. And then Spliffany goes to put down the deposit and we find out that the owner showed it to us, not knowing that someone had already gotten it. On to the next place.

We found a great apartment to move into only a few blocks from the one that we loved and we put a deposit down on it. Six days before I am set to move, you send gypsies to my house to steal my jewelry and my dairy products (and scare the bejesus out of me).

You arrange it so that I can move into the new apartment (that I only kind of liked) a week early so that I didn’t have to stay alone in the gypsy stink of the old one, but you make me pay an extra $350 that I had to borrow (and you know I don’t do that) from JGJ.

Once I finally got settled in, you decided to torch the apartment below me and almost kill my cat. And I KNOW that you’re aware that I would literally JUMP into a fire to save my cat. You do not MESS with the Ernge. All of this, forcing me to move, yet AGAIN into another (seemingly perfect) apartment.

This time, the landlord seems a little wacky but nothing we can’t handle. And we move in and we go out ONE time and basically get told that we are not allowed to move about the house in heels (or at all) at any time that may annoy someone in a five mile radius of our apartment. We also may not, under any circumstances, speak while sitting on the porch or in any room with a window open so as not to portray a negative image of our neighborhood. Also, we must not have magnets with funny slogans or the word “beer” on them. You also informed us, through our OCD landlord, that the word “dog” cannot be send in a normal tone of voice and that it must also accompany a scowl and disapproving shake of the head. This also goes for the word “basketball hoop”. Because clearly, anyone who plays basketball is no friend of yours.

All of this and my job started to suck more than ever.

Is there something that I have done to anger you? Is there something I can do to lift the curse that you have seemingly put on my head? Can you please cut a sista a break? I would really appreciate it. Seriously.

Your attention to this matter will be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

The Criz