The experiment shuddered to an inauspicious start. Last night--with all my shit loaded in a U-Haul and parked in a HoJo's lot halfway between Chicago and Harrisonburg--I got an email sent several hours after my departure saying that Human Resources had made a last minute change and reassigned my temp housing to a nice little house a little outside Harrisonburg. That would have been fine, except that I'd repeatedly told HR that I have a cat and no car, so I need to be able to bike to work from a pet-friendly apartment. Naturally, HR had reassigned me to a no-pets place so remote that it'd require a car. I was livid and, after several tall boys, called the HR lady's cell phone at an ungodly hour to threaten to burn her house down, trip her as she fled the inferno, and, while she was groggy and weak from smoke inhalation, wrench open her legs, rip off her panties, and spit in her pink spittoon with spittle so twistedly potent that she'd bear a litter of spider-eels that looked like me.
She called in the morning to say everything had been fixed.
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