By now my audience probably understands my sense of “humor.”

After tearing the main ligaments off of my ankle bone, losing pay, and filing an insurance claim with the city department ~ well, life became even harder.

Remember I said I had been out of work and the rent was due?

I had lived in the dump of an apartment for almost 9 years with my baby girl.

I do not shit where I eat ~ I keep a clean house ~ even with 2 dawgs and a teenager.

Although my apartments location was considered being the “hood” in Midwest White USA, I still maintained an acceptable home for my kids.

The featured picture is not even after the December flood in 2015.  It is my bathtub (or lack of ) after 3 years of not having a bathroom.


This is my tub with fiberglass (?) on top of the crack.  The layer of harsh material would cut our bottoms and feet ~ even with a rubber mat that had to be replaced once a month.

According to my lawyer it does not matter the environment of your housing that you live in.

As a renter,  poor person, single woman. and no education in law (hence hiring a fucking lawyer in the first place) the environment you live in does not matter if your rent is late ~ even if you were /are hurt and out of work.

Especially, if you make a loud noise  when and where you fell, in the same county your lawyer, property manager, and the city government-where-you-filed-an-insurance-claim lives and is from ~ Are you picking up what I am throwing down?

Therefore, I cut a deal with the property manager and my lawyer who insisted I should (what a dick) ~ but I could continue to live in the dump with my daughter; most important of everything.  And I thought life was throwing me too many lemons to continue to make lemonade in October 2015 ~ I had not given up believe it or don’t.

On a wet Sunday morning, December 2015 I woke up to a very soggy bedroom floor.  At first, I thought my Latino Queen, Mean Bean , had been angry with me and took a pee where she knew my feet would hit first thing when I awakened. (and yes she is that smart and that mean).

The depth of the wettness was way too high for it to be a puddle of muddle from a dawg!

My other foot hit the floor and both feet sunk into the wetness seeping over the bottoms of my feet.


As I continued to walk across the floor of my bedroom towards the door, I continued to walk through a sloshy, carpeted room.  I was not truly awake yet.  My brain still was unable to connect to whatever the problem of a wet carpet even meant…

Did I mention the first of half of my apartment was underground?

Yeah,  It was.

That “sloshy wetness of carpet”  was backed up sewage pouring into my bedroom via a pipe in the wall…

YES!  I was literally walking through other peoples shit and piss ~ including but not limited to my very own.


Here’s the deal ~ This story is a bit much for me to get through.  I sincerely thought this was the worse my life could get for my family.  And at this point I still believed there was going to be a siver lining coming up.  I was stupid positive!

I refused to pay my rent in January 2016 because I was still wading in shit only all of my belongings were crammed into to 2 rooms of an already too small living space.  But I made do and I was STILL stupid positive there was going to be a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow of hell for my family and myself.

See the 1990’s television?  I only had a dvd player to watch anything on it with.

I never did hardly.

For me, television is a waste of my valuable life.

My living room and bedroom crammed together…

See THIS crap??

this is Black Mold embedded into the concrete floor under the sewage-soaked carpet…

I lived in this shit hole trying to raise kids…

The health department pushed me out the door when I brought them a sample.

I called the EPA.


Any type of mold is too dangerous to be tested!

Yet! Because I contacted both the Health and EPA I had to report to the property manager that I reported the living space to them…


I was going to pay for stirring up the pot!!

How dare I think breathing and living among backed up sewage and black mold was important to anyone of authority other than myself?

Life was seemingly getting dimmer…

Published by

Ms. Mae

A Funny, Intelligent, Tenacious, and FIERCE Woman!

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