Remember this conversation? I get another round of that this weekend.
The old apartment was found because the previous tenant signed on for a whole new year, starting in September, but then had to take a job in Africa. The landlords agreed to release him from the lease if he could find a new tenant. Enter me and Nick. As a thank you for taking it over (and, I think, a desire to limit the amount of things To Do as he prepared to leave the country) he left the deposit for us. Woo! Free money!
After way too many conversations with my previous landlord (it’s a truly boring story), I finally got the check for the free money. The problem: it’s made out to both me and Nick. I can understand why they did this — simplicity, assumption, etc. Plus our live-in caretaker is not the same as the landlord, so I’m sure the nuances of our relationship was not passed along to the main office.
Anyways, I went to Wells Fargo to ask if I could deposit the check into my account. Yes, but only if Nick is there with identification to approve the transaction. As timing would have it, he’s in town this weekend! So we get to trek to the bank and make a deposit “together.” It makes me feel all awkward. Like when I was on the phone with the post office and they kept referring to Nick as my husband. Um, no. Not at all. And, um, well, it’s complicated. Um, yes, next I need a withdrawal for half that amount to hand to him in cash right now.
(and I am very well aware that y’all will think I’m a bit nutty for thinking this much about it!)
And in the Job Updates That I Don’t Even Want To Bother With Anymore:
1) renewed interest from Fargo for a year-long gig; phoner likely on Tuesday
2) round 2 with non-profit on Wednesday
3) the long process of a potential City gig strikes again; but I know better than to get my hopes up