I remember it like it was yesterday. It had been 4 months since I had been able to pay my rent, and I had felt this day coming for a long time. 5 months ago I had been fired from my job, and the economy in Oregon was very poor. I was able to do little odd jobs to get enough food to eat but my rent was another story. It was a cold and damp Monday morning in late March and my landlord Dieter came to my door. Dieter was an eastern European, and a really nice guy. He came to see if I had anything to give him so he did not have to kick me out. Of course I tried to make up an excuse because I have always been known to do that. He did not buy it this time and remorsefully told me that I had until the end of the week to be out of the place. Instantly my mind started racing one hundred miles an hour. Where was I going to go? What was I going to do? Do I call my parents? I always call my parents? What am I going to do with my stuff? Can I do this? AHHHH!!!!!
After I was told I need to move out, I closed the door and looked around the living room. My apartment was in Monmouth, Oregon. It was a small but cozy one bedroom place. I had lived there for about one year. I was a twenty-three year old single guy. I was not the cleanest person in the world and disorganized at that. The room was a little messy and the coffee table had empty beer bottles laying on it next to dirty plate from the night before. On the floor was a wad of dirty clothes. All around the room was pure clutter.
Next I stepped it to the kitchen. On the stove was grease and food stains cooked on the surface of the range. The counter tops had empty fast food bags on it. I looked at the sink with a mountain of dishes piled up on it. Then in my the bathroom there was hair in the sink. The mirror was filthy and the floor needed a good scrubbing. Finally, I went tin to the bedroom where there was more clothes. Where did I get all these clothes I thought to myself. I jumped into my...