My re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-resettlement.

Thanks for hanging in there.

I’ve settled into my home for the next year–hopefully longer than a year. Thanks to Nic, Paddy, the roomie, and his friend for their box carryin’, furniture liftin’, vehicle drivin’ muscles. I couldn’t have done it without them. Truly. Moving is exhausting.

TRULY.

As is jumping through all the hoops required to get accessibility. In this case, I’m referring to the accommodations needed for my upcoming hearing with the RTB (Residential Tenancy Branch). I emailed them on October 24th, 2022, to inform them that I was deaf and would require an ASL interpreter for hearing. They responded explaining how hearings are typically done via teleconference, but ensured they’d work something out for me. In January, I emailed them again as a reminder and specified a few interpreters whom I trusted. The response I received was more or less, “I have passed on your request to someone else who should get back to you.”

I fired another email on March 31st demanding a follow-up. They finally got back to me on April 6th.

Yes, it took them half a year. Am I surprised? No. I am annoyed. This is a recurring theme of my life that I could do without. As is this:

They tried calling me twice today and also left a voicemail. Such champions of human rights.

Government services such as the RTB exist to enforce the Residential Tenancy Act so that people like me don’t get f’d in the a. Government services are required to provide accommodations. But when they don’t (or half-ass it), what are my options?

I want to get the hearing over with so badly. It’s been consuming my thoughts for the past few months.

Rather than write more about something that hasn’t happened yet, I shall show off my new nook.

BEHOLD!

Some would call it a pain cave, but it’s too beautiful to even be called a pain nook. (Sadly, those two windows don’t open, so the nook gets sweltering.) It certainly beats the Dickens out of my former “nook for ants”. I’ve mostly retired the trainer until next fall. For the next few months, the nook exists to nourish my plants. I might, on occasion, sit in the Poäng pensively.

The landlord’s dog has adopted the habit of inspecting our recycling bin every morning. I often catch him staring at me through the window while I eat breakfast. Ah, better the dog than the landlord.

Nearby, I found this laminated fundraiser poster stapled to a utility pole. I think it was to promote a fundraiser of some sort (Oak Bay is a famously wealthy ‘hood–why these kids can’t get the funds from their parents is beyond me), but I was too fixated on the gaggle of Zoomer dorks to note the poster’s intention.

This kid in particular.

Straining to get airtime.

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