After a year of loud monster sex, dog deprivation, doormat dog shit, police raids, and laptop theft, I am finally moving out of this god-forsaken apartment. Naively, I sent my property manager an email, letting her know I was moving out and asking if she needed anything from me. Of course, I received no reply. That was when I realized that I keep operating as if people in the adult world have common decency towards each other. They don't. I can't just casually tell her I'm moving out, or else she will ignore it and suddenly stun me on my way out next month with the news that I still haven't given formal notice and must therefore pay an extra month's rent. No, to avoid that, I have to send her a formal letter, and luckily since I'm a lawyer, I know how to write one.
This experience has made me remember all over again why my profession exists. It's because the older we get, the more we have to use fancy language to act like giant babies to each other. "I don't want to live here anymore" doesn't count. It has to be, "Please be on notice that I will be terminating my tenancy and vacating this unit on a date that is 30 days or more from the date of this notice." All of that legal gibberish just to say, "Peace out, bitches." Ours is truly a noble profession.
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