Don't Go Away Mad, Just Go Away

Private Enemy Number One: A Story About Dec. 29

It's been almost two weeks since this day happened, but it's still bothering me.
I started the day feeling optimistic and responsible. I finally decided to pay Oprah's pet deposit on the day I left for New Year's since I've had her since Labor Day. Before I brought her out here, the resident assistants and resident life coordinator said the deposit wasn't a pressing issue, so I kept putting it off...and putting it off...and yes, putting it off some more. I didn't want Kali and Rob (the people who watched the cats during the break) to freak out if the main office found out that I had two cats instead of just one.

I try to be a responsible pet owner, after all.

PSU uses an outside vendor to rent out their apartments. I get to the office on the other side of campus to talk to the receptionist/office slave. Her first comment: "you're only allowed to have one cat, and only in certain apartments." Now, I read the handbook beforehand, just to make sure that it was technically allowed. I showed that part to her, and that's when she noticed that only apartments over 500 square feet are allowed to have cats.

Mine is 492 square feet.

Eight fucking feet. For CHRIST'S SAKE!!!

Which is exactly what I said...without including the profanities. She made some statement under her breath about me wanting to bend the rules for certain things and not for others. We argued about it for several more minutes, until I did what all composed, confident citizens do in this case: I started to cry.

Although I did lose any credibility I may have had, I did gain the second best thing: pity. She said that I could deal with it after I got back from Albuquerque. The day I got back, I went to one of the resident assistants to pick up my brand new camera phone and to open my apartment for me since I didn't have the keys. I asked about the 8 feet discrepancy issue, and here is the answer I got:
"Just keep the second cat a secret."

I try to do the right thing, and people just try to make me regress. Sigh. College life.

I went to pay my rent yesterday and managed to avoid the fascist receptionist. However, this can't go on forever. I have several different identities to hide behind since none of my identification cards or credit cards have the same name (Britt Baca-Hochhausler, BM Hochhausler, etc.). If anyone has any appearance-altering devices that I can use on the first of every month, though, I'm all ears.

Wish me luck. Also, wish Uma and Oprah luck...they certainly need it.