Were we too nice?
The days and weeks we waited for our official "kick him out of the apartment" day seemed to drag and drag. I was on my last couple months of pregnancy, work was wearing me out, and the four flights of stairs we had to climb several times a day to get to our temporary home seemed like mountains. Needless to say, we were past the point of being ready.
The day came, and we waited. Waited to hear that the Marshall posted the eviction notice on his door. Waited to get the official "its all yours". But, it didn't come. We followed up with the Marshall's office and at that point, not surprisingly, their office wasn't all that on top of things. He was backed up and the secretary couldn't give us any sort of time frame. More sobs.
Tom, bless his heart, was a lot more forgiving during this process than I was. He called Mr. Wrong and agreed to help him move out. I was not so happy with this, I didn't think he deserved any help. Tom even payed for a UHaul and some how got some of our friends to help out too. They moved a bunch of his big stuff, but didn't really make a dent in the place. He knew he was supposed to be out by the date he signed to, but he wasn't moving with any sense of urgency.
The Marshall's office finally served the eviction notice, a week and a half late. We were notified, and relieved that there would finally be an end in sight. Mr. Wrong called us the same day and said he had just received the notice, but he wouldn't be leaving until the very last day possible, which would be another five days. I smile now thinking back on that phone call. It was the first that I had heard Tom actually raise his voice to Mr. Wrong. In Tom's words, "How could you do this to us, especially after my friends and I helped you move?" I could believe it, he didn't have any problem putting a pregnant girl on the streets. We of course explained things much more dramatically to him, but in my head it seemed justified. These five extra days we had to wait would seem like nothing to anyone else, but to us, it seemed like another 5 months. It was the middle of November at that point, and we had already scheduled an appointment with the contractor.
To his word, he did finally leave, but not until the last possible minute.
And he left us with this.
Sunday, August 12, 2007 at 3:54AM
Reader Comments (10)
This story became especially disturbing to me when you became pregnant and homeless, and yet this guy still managed to sleep at night knowing he was the cause of that homelessness, but those last pictures took the cake. I am shocked! I hope there were repercussions, I almost want to track him down myself.
Seriously! What a nightmare! I can't believe you went through all of that...pregnant even.
this is the saddest story i have ever heard!
Ugh. You should post pictures of your belly just to show not only that you were pregnant but HOW pregnant you were during all of this. What a nightmare this whole experience was. As I said then, yes, you were too nice. How you managed to live out of those suitcases for that long I will never know. Again so grateful for all your friends and for their most gracious hospitality. But YUCK to fricking all the junk Mr. Wrong left you with. Good grief.
Wow. Just wow.
Holy cow. If this was me, I would have seriously had to fight the urge not to physically assault this man. I probably would have started this blog months before he moved out and did everything I could to publicize his injustice and smear his reputation among his friends and associates. Not very Christlike, I know, but holy cow...
Alysha, I cannot believe that you went through all of this while you were pregnant! I can't even imagine what that must have been like. I'm checking your blog everyday to read the happy ending to this awful story!!
Yeah, honestly, I would have posted his name, rather than "Mr. Wrong" so that anyone googling him in the future would find the blog and realize what a dork he is.
Bless your heart.
...and then bless your heart again. my jaw dropped and i gasped when i saw these pictures. you poor, poor things. makes me want to cry.