termination of lease

So, three weeks after abandoning my apartment, I guess it's safe to say I may have successfully terminated my lease. I am a little cautious still, but worried enough to write about it, I guess. I actually tried not to write about it so as not to jinx it (it would not surprise me one bit if tomorrow I received a letter in the mail informing me that I owe my leasing company twelve hundred dollars, because that is just how things work for me sometimes).

I have to admit, I had valid reasons for terminating my lease, but I didn't exactly go about dealing with the proper "legal" way. I looked online at the tenant's board association and I was supposed to let my leasing company know two weeks before I was going to move out that there were repairs needed and if they weren't done in two weeks time, I could effectively terminate my lease. I sent a letter after I moved out.

It's strange, but I really did love that apartment when I first moved in, and maybe it was just because it was so quiet and it had such a nice view and I could sit at the window and smoke cigarettes and be depressed without feeling like I was a mess (even though I was). Oh, and there wasn't a slimy cheating snake around, that probably had a lot to do with it.

Slowly, its issues began to annoy me. First it was discovering that my kitchen sink leaked. I didn't wash a single dish in that place for ten months. Yeah, urban camping. I had to blowdry my hair at my only available outlet (which was at the opposite end of the apartment) in front of my window. Then the outlet that was in the bathroom (the blow dryer has that big chunky plug with the built in reset buttons and didn't fit) didn't hold any plugs for very long, so when I flat ironed my hair, the plug would fall out without my realizing and I had to start all over and wait for it to heat up again.

Then there was that time I closed my bathroom door and the handle came out of place while I was inside. I panicked, feeling a sense of horrendous and irrational doom. I was running late, I began to sweat, I had my phone so I called Val and she laughed at me in sympathy. Finally I was able to turn the handle against the lock enough to catch the levers to open the door and I could never close the door fully again. Whenever people visited I would forget to tell them and they would find themselves stuck in my bathroom, but only for a moment, because I was there to rescue them.

And the list went on of little things that began to wear down the veneer of my pretense that the apartment was just fine. So I think because I tolerated its limits for so long, I should be able to get it all wrong about leaving it. I hope. We'll see.