So I called

So I called Alan the other night regarding the dog situation. He got testy relatively quick when I asked him to come home and clean up the dog shit instead of staying wherever he planned on staying that night. I figured it wouldn't be the best time to mention that his dog needs to go when he's already angry about the shit situation. I didn't want the whole ordeal to turn into a yelling match where everyone walks away angry, so I just hung up.

Yesterday I called again after not ever being able to see the kid face-to-face, since it seems that he's avoiding me, and the house, on purpose lately. The phone rang, but I got his voicemail. I left a message saying he needs to call me back about the living situation and about the dog situation, but no phone call came.

Instead, I took the chicken's way out and left a note. It was pretty long, explaining that it was unhealthy to leave the dog in the kennel in the basement in this weather, but when it was out, all it did was shit, piss, fight with Winnie, break stuff, drool, fart, and be a general nuisance. I explained that if the dog wasn't gone by the 15th, then I would take it to the humane society. Also, starting the 15th, Alan's rent would be weekly and more expensive than before to pursuade him to start looking for his own place to live.

I woke up this morning to a short but sweet note saying Alan and his dog would be out by Saturday. I just hope there's no bad blood between anyone. I still like Alan, and I still think he's a good guy. I think he's not a great roommate and I think he's a terrible dog owner, but I still like him. I just hope he doesn't see me as a heartless, cruel human being for the dog situation over the past 4 or 5 months, or how I kind of kicked him out now.

But the good news is that Jaimee and I are living alone together finally. Well, starting on Saturday. And we'll have a guest bedroom for anyone who wants to spend the night. Except for Wolford, who is unwelcome.