As you may, or may not, know, I've been having difficulties with my roommate. It has never been an equal partnership. She doesn't contribute to any housechores, claiming that she is too busy. It got to the point where I said that we couldn't live together anymore.
At first, she acknowledged that I was the one who had found the apartment, and who had stronger ties to the neighbourhood. She was willing to move. Somehow, though, it came to the point where she dug in her heels and wouldn't move.
So, we had to bring our landlady into the matter. The landlady expressed to me that she would prefer that I stay, since I had a new roommate who would be willing to move in, and we would keep the apartment in a nice condition. With her reassurances, I turned down offers of several apartments. My new roommate, Whitney, extraordinarily sympathetic and patient, waited to see how things would work out.
Well, my 25-year-old roommate had her mother come to speak for her, to me and to our landlady. I was completely speechless. Yes, my mother, too, would come to my defense at the drop of a hat. But I would never allow her to fight my battles for me.
Inexperienced and trying to do the right thing, my landlady was intimidated by the seniority of my roommate's mother, and didn't come through for me. Therefore, I will be leaving this apartment and this community that I have loved from the beginning, and which I have been the only one take care of. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I feel bad for my landlady because I won't be here to make sure her lovely apartment is given the proper care. But I have fought as hard as I could, and now I have to accept the outcome.
Farewell, my home. Farewell.