Today we received our 60-day move-out notices. We've been expecting them for weeks, and mine arrived rather unceremoniously a few moments ago as an email attachment. I'm to fill it out, sign it and fax or mail, or scan it and email it back to UHAB. Whatever, apparently. I bet I could shoot it with my iphone and Facebook it. Or twitter it. Can you twitter photos?
Well that was anticlimactic. I thought I'd be served somehow, or at least have to go to the post office and pick up a registered letter of some sort. Something a little officious to match the gravity of what the notice means to me. But an email? When I moved into this building there was no email, no computers, I don't think at least not of the ubiquitous personal variety.
So now I really have to move. No more talking, discussing, speculating. No more fabricating possible scenarios, no more resigning to not knowing. And worse, no more righteous indignation at The Man, whoever he is. We are going with The Man, and in full cahoots.
For now anyway.