I'm officially checking out of the Happiness Hotel. I signed a lease this morning for the next month and a half for a room in Talbieh. It's a very cute, very 1950's two-bedroom apartment, and my flatmate is an American named Jackie who I haven't met yet. I've already started moving my clothes in, and should be fully moved by the time I go to bed on Sunday.
This move can't come soon enough for me. Last night, right after I came back from viewing the apartment in Talbieh, the doorbell rang at the Happiness Hotel, and turned out to be yet another person claiming to be the landlord. This one seems to be the real landlord, though, and the first one was actually his agent. His agent, that is, who never bothered informing the landlord about all of the craziness with Cousin Ganif. So we had to go through the entire story all over again. The real landlord now wants to break the lease with Cousin Ganif, and is willing to discuss a new lease with us, but needs to check out what's been happening with the agent first. He says we'd know by Wednesday at the latest what the story is about the lease.
No thank you. I want out. So I signed my own lease at a totally different apartment. I'll move more clothes over motzei shabbat, and then move the last of it Sunday after work. My stay at the Happiness Hotel is almost over. Baruch Hashem.
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