Everything is finally official. I will have a new apartment, the landlord signed the contract in front of me, and all of my negotiations stood for exactly the reason I thought I could push it: the brokers have more leverage than a single renter, and I come across as a very responsible, upstanding citizen. And sure enough, they will receive the apartment back, whenever I do move out after the first 3 years, in better condition than they gave it to me since I really do take excellent care of property.

I put in about a 60 hour week between the paperwork, the appointments to see apartments, the phone calls, the lease negotiations, working on Tuesday at my current job despite it being my (supposed) day off, and working before and after all of these appointments and necessary paperwork. Last night I let go, finally, and have made sure that I did little today besides pick up boxes from stores around the area so that I can begin packing. Originally I was planning on hiring movers for the 15th, but at this point I'm thinking maybe two Wed/Thurs from now, since I can walk some of the smaller stuff over to the new apartment starting on the 15th, and just let the movers take the furniture. Especially since the beginning of the week I have my Dad's birthday party, cookie baking that is traditional every year the following Monday, working on Tuesday to make up for Monday, so maybe it will all work out. Right now it's all about the time management factor - it will work out, but it's going to take some more fighting, and I'm gearing up for it.

I'm exhausted, but almost done with phase I. After looking with a broker at an apartment on the UES that was a studio for $1250 and rent-controlled, I showed up today to sign the lease, after agreeing to the standard broker's fee (which will be paid from my money back from my current apartment).

Yeah, it's a standard lease, not rent-controlled. I walk out to the main room and start a small scene. Two hours of negotiation later, I have the apartment on a 2 year lease for $1,300 both years, and a required option to renew for a third year at rent-stabilized prices. I even out-brokered the broker, since at the end of it all, he mentioned that since the rent was higher, the broker fee should be higher. I said, "sure, let's keep negotiating." He let me go with the priorly agreed fee just to get it over and done with :).

Of course, now I'm exhausted between apartment hunting, working 10 hour days, the stress of uncertainty about my living situation, and everything else. Tonight I'll take it easy, tomorrow I'll complete my 10 hour day, leave a bit before 8 pm before the power goes out for the weekend, and then start packing on Saturday. Sunday I'm working again to catch up on the queue, and then, hopefully, I'll be ready to make the arrangements for movers and finalize this deal.

I've done well; I'm proud of myself, and now, for one night at least, I can rest.

The joys of being a temp. There's no truly official status that I can provide from my temp agency that would satisfy any potential landlords in the buildings that I want that I will someday be able to afford. However, the sketchy disgusting apartments (surprisingly...not) really don't care if you have formal approval. I'm in another mild Catch 22, although not as bad as the normal Catch 22s I find myself in.

I worked today before and after broker appointments, and still have no application; no lease. I'm working on Sunday too, making a nice 50-55 hour week, which is insane by normal standard, but standard by LIB standards in some sick way. I just have to keep plugging away, and hope that something, somewhere desirable comes available before I must move.

Negotations with current landlord still to come. Tomorrow I see one more at lunch, then I decide from there. It could be interesting.

I really meant to get sleep tonight. However, I'm finally giving in and going to meet with a broker at 9 am, and the combination of that and unpleasant dreams woke me at 3:30. I still haven't gone back to sleep, but I have managed to complete the subject and author indexes for my ex-journal, PDF them, and send them to the appropriate people, so now my duties to my old job are just about completely done, except for billing them for my time (which is the good part that makes it all worthwhile).

In about 10 minutes I'll get up, shower, dress, try to find some breakfast in my mostly bare cupboard, then trek to the broker's office hoping that this place for $1395 isn't as rundown and small as most of the studios I've seen in that price range so far. If this works out, however, then I'm at least covered for the next year, the two months rent I'll get back from this apartment will (likely) cover the broker's fee so I'll break even, and I'll get a new start yet again. Plus, while the walk is farther from a subway stop, it's near the 86th St. express stop, and also near Carl Schurz Park, which is my favorite park in the whole city. It might be worth it in the long run, and it's certainly better than getting evicted or paying $500 a day after 1/1/2007, which are my current options.

I volunteered to come into my new job today since they're really backed up, it'll look good, and it'll keep my nervous hands busy for the day after the broker's apartment so I don't sit in my apartment and go nuts instead. Or more nuts than I already am (haha - gotta have a sense of humor about it).

My RNR wasn't there last night, and I may swing by to see him today around 6:30-7 to try and catch him when he's relatively sober. All I'll ask him is for the next month when my life will be total chaos, please keep yourself in control and don't physically injure me again. You would think this would be a small request, but I well realize this could lead to a fight (verbal, not physical). Good, I've got some anger with no place to go. Updates to follow, I'm sure.

He did it again. When I first arrived, he was normal drunk, and actually thanked me for taking him home on Thursday night. Then it hit that point, he was almost passing out, and I could see the hostility taking over, so I stepped away and gave a heads-up to the bouncer so he'd watch out for my RNR. Once he woke up more, he was fine, and I ordered food. He was eating fries off of my plate (fine, I don't eat fries anyway), while I ate the sandwich, and we were just talking. Then he tried to pull me off my chair, and I braced my right arm on the table to stop him.

The next time he pulled me, I came completely off the chair, cutting my arm on the table, and hard enough that both of my shoes flew off. Again, he played too rough, and I ended up injured. This was in public, with all of the boys around, and I still got hurt by him since he's just completely out of control. Things are going to get interesting, I suspect, and I'll make damn sure he knows what he did. Again.

It's amazing how, without even realizing it, I've managed to duplicate what I've seen in a few different milieus before. In multiple ways, no less. Tonight I was the pool player, who won a few games against those who were better than I was. I was the caretaker, who made sure my RNR made it home safe by pretending I was going home with him, and wanting to make it real even though I know it can't happen anymore. And finally, I was the finisher with doubts, the one who stays and finally leaves wondering what's best and whether I was actually doing what was right.

Of course, I know, he won't remember, which means pretty much anything which makes him safe will be a plus. And yet, after almost a year, after two years living in the bar world, I still am amazed sometimes where guardian angels, even those you don't remember, can make a difference that can change a life - but the questions is: his or mine?