I had been staying in Greenville basically for free. I had to pay for my food and stuff, but the rent was free. My roommate and I were staying in his condo which was paid for. One day, he informed me that he was having to relocate to Clemson with his job as a property manager, and I was going to have to move out. This came as quite a shock to me. I loved Greenville, but I couldn't afford to stay there. The utilities were about $150/month. That was $150 more than I had in the bank.
I didn't want to leave Greenville. I tried selling some of my albums to a record store. I gathered up several that were worth a lot, including a Ron Wood autographed album with his original artwork included. I got around $60 for it. Way less than it was worth, but I was desperate. In all, they gave me $100 for these albums. I contacted a friend who managed a storage unit in Columbia. She said she would give me a special rate of $20/month to store my stuff. So, I started to move my records, tapes, cd's, videos, clothes, and some furniture down there by my car. I tried to make runs once or twice a week to get them down there. Some of the big pieces of furniture, like bookcases, dresser, chest of drawers, and kitchen table w/chairs, I had to leave there. They were eventually moved to my roommate's mother's house in Easley.
Without money, I sunk into depression. I would be driving down the highway and think what if I just drove into an overpass? My brain began to get blurry. One Saturday, I drove to Simpsonville to see my friend Mary. I told her that I just couldn't go on. She sat me down and got out a pad and pencil. She told me to write down why I should live in one column, and then why I should die in a second column. Through my tears, I began to write. The live column was longer than the die column. She told me that I was realizing that there was more to live for. But, I still didn't have enough money to move, and I didn't have money to stay.
I reached out to my college roommate, who lived outside of Greenville. He had a 2-bedroom trailer, and he said I could live there, if his parents agreed. They were paying for the trailer. We drove to their home in Spartanburg. I had met them years before, but it was like meeting them again for the first time. His father asked me if I had a job, and I said no. So, he gave me an ultimatum that I would find a job within a month's time so as to help pay for the rent. This was during the recession, and jobs were scarce. But, I agreed to his terms. We went back to the trailer, and he showed me around. It was okay, but there was an unusual smell about it. He had an inside cat. The litter box was in the one bathroom, and there wasn't much air circulation. I gagged in the bathroom. His one rule was that the cat couldn't go outside.
The next day, we went shopping to get some curtains for my bedroom. When we got back to the trailer, he told me that his refrigerator needed cleaning, and that I should do it to test my skills in cleaning. From the look of the inside of the refrigerator, it appeared that he hadn't cleaned it at all. There was gunk and grime everywhere. He gave me a knife and some ammonia to have at it. I scraped and cleaned as much as I could without passing out. When I finished, he declared it good and said it was time for supper. We were having hot dogs. He used the same knife from the cleaning to spread ketchup on the buns. Even though he had rinsed it off, I got grossed out. I knew I couldn't stay there.
The next morning, I woke up early. I moved out. While I was opening the door, the cat got outside (oops). I think the cat was trying to escape, too. I drove to downtown Greenville and parked, so that I could get a wi-fi signal. I emailed a friend from high school about my situation. He had a good head on his shoulders, and I valued his advice. His mother had just died, and I also wanted to express my sympathy. I drove back to the old condo and decided to just crash there for a couple of days and figure out what I was going to do.
A couple of days later, a letter came in the mail from my friend in Columbia. In it was a check for $5000. I couldn't believe it. Tears rolled down my face once again. I could now afford to move back to Columbia, where I felt I had a better chance in finding a job. When I thanked my friend for the money, he said not to worry about it. He said that God told him to do it. I never said goodbye to my former college roommate, and I don't think he ever forgave me. I'm sorry, Gary. I hope you found your cat.
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