Ugh. I feel like shit. After spending last night at my parents and thus living out of a bag for more than 36 hours in order to avoid being alone in the house with FCN, I come home to an answering machine message from Peter asking us to move out as soon as possible. The fuck????

Now it's garbage smells. Gee - you suppose there's a smell of garbage around the house the night before the garbage pick-up? You'd think that a woman who's smoked for years and keeps more than 4 cats in an apartment would be a little less inquisitorial about smells, but you'd be wrong. It seems that either Peter agrees with her about garbage smells (?) or he's backed down once again in the face of his daughter's psychoses.

Leaving the whole issue of moving house while I'm 7 months pregnant aside for the moment, we have nowhere to go. My brother spent last night on the floor when I took over his bed. Nobody has room for us. My parents basement won't be ready for weeks - it's not even fully cleared out, let alone stripped, painted & floored.

The only comfort in all of this is a cold comfort at best. According to the police, we cannot be harassed by a private citizen. According to the Landlord-Tenant Act, we cannot be harassed to leave an apartment by the landlord. Also, we must have 3 months notice. Three months puts us at the end of December - exactly when we were planning to leave anyway. So we're staying and fighting. No more concessions to charity or pity - from here on in it's going to be official correspondence and calls to the police.

As if that weren't enough, we found out at the end of today that report cards are going out on Friday. Yes, that's right - I have 2 fucking days to finish up all my marking and write fucking report cards.

Therefore, even though there are a number of entries backlogged and a number of events undocumented, I'm going offline until at least the weekend. I'm posting this so that you know I haven't died or given birth. The rest I'll have to fill in later.

Post script:

Jesus God. She just appeared at our backdoor, demanding that we take out our garbage (this from a woman who used to keep her recycling in the main hallway for me to trip over). Then she came pounding up to our front door, demanding to talk to me about "what [the Boy] has been doing during the day" (i.e. smoking). When I refused to even come to the door, she started screaming about eviction notices and such. She's been slamming doors all night. I finally called the cops an hour ago about the noise, but I don't know if I can wait that long.

At least the fact that I can't eat and can't sleep is keeping me awake to enter marks in the computer. What a shitty, shitty consolation.