A Cellarful of Nose - Future Shoes

idea of being kicked out of her home will be unbearable to her.
Message: If you evict her, she will die. I was ready to throw
all sorts of emoluments the landlord's way: extra rent money, a
steeper damage deposit, monthly inspections, a donation to the
charity of his choice – whatever he required.
So I was donning my battle gear this morning, ready to hit
him low and hard on Christmas Eve, the day it is not
recommended to say, There is no room here for you.
I imagined I would work a Christmas miracle all by myself,
writing a letter that would touch this landlord’s heart, and
everything would be better because my letter would be, like,
kapow.
This will give you some insight into my character. It was allout
war for me, I was taking no prisoners, and this letter would be
like a safe falling from a 12-story window – irresistible,
unnegotiable.
Because it was unacceptable that my daughter would commit
suicide over something so lame as an eviction notice. I always
have felt that that was The Worst Thing That Could Happen. It
would end my life as a sensible person. I would become like my
mom from that point on, after her daughter died – a restless, selfloathing
spirit. The death of a child is bad.
I cannot allow harm to befall my daughter, or for
psychological harm to sweep away my family – bad, bad, bad!
But how do I help her get herself together when I am being
histrionic myself?
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