I have a headache. The kind that sits on your forehead and makes you wonder if that Head On stuff really works. But now it's starting to take on what I call the "sweatband formation," where it wraps around your skull at forehead level like bad 80s fashion with blood lust.

Ow.

I heard back from Bob's teacher yesterday. She told me she'd planned to email me Monday, as Bob had a particularly awful day that day--just seemed incredibly pissed and couldn't seem to sit still. She finally talked to him and told him she counted on him to be a good example for the other students, and that she was surprised by his behavior. The rest of the day after that was better. Tuesday was better still. And Wednesday was good enough he was able to fetch a prize from the "good behavior box."

This just confirms what I already suspected--that Bob has the ability, but his ability is being compromised by the words and actions of a douchebag. Which makes me relieved on the one hand, and really fucking pissed at a douchebag on the other.

I did get November's child support payment in today's mail. That's good news.

I'm trying to figure out how to handle a situation that's come up with our former landlord, who I'll refer to as "Fuckstick" from this point forward. We sent Fuckstick a letter stating we were purchasing a home and therefore terminating our lease. We stated we would be vacating the premises and terminating the lease effective September 23. We included a check for $500 for the "lease termination fee," in accordance with the provisions of the lease. And we sent this letter and check on...July 16.

You read that right. We gave that idiot sixty-nine days' notice. Sixty. Nine. Days.

We paid our rent in August, but cash was tight in September, so we didn't pay September's rent. Ben talked to Fuckstick and asked if we could just forfeit our security deposit in lieu of paying September rent. Fuckstick said "yeah, sure, no problem." And we were out of there--completely--by September 16. My husband went through that place with a fine-toothed comb. He scrubbed the shit out of the stove, the oven, the refrigerator. He swept out the basement. He vaccuumed the dust and crap out of the fireplace. He took all the trash to the curb.

A couple of weeks after we moved out, Fuckstain called Ben and asked if he was available to do a "walk-through." Ben met him at the house, and acknowledged there was a mini-blind that needed repair or replacing (the threads had busted on one side), and there was one window screen that was torn--but the screen had been torn when we moved in, and Fuckstain agreed this was correct. Fuckstain expressed to Ben how pleased he was with the condition of the property, and how it was, indeed, cleaner than it had been when we took possession (which is true, it was filthy when we moved in).

Of course Fuckstain hadn't shown up with the actual walk-through checklist or anything even remotely similar. Instead, he had Ben sign a piece of scrap paper on which he'd scribbled something about having done a walk-through and everything being satisfactory or something. Of course, he did not give Ben a copy of this.

We didn't hear from Fuckstain for a while, until he left Ben a voicemail a few weeks later saying he'd rented the house as of November 1. We congratulated him in our heads and didn't bother calling him back. A couple days after that, he left Ben another, shittier voicemail that "if I don't hear from you by tomorrow, I'll assume you're not interested in fulfilling your obligation." Um...we've fulfilled our obligation, Fuckstain. Go to hell.

All was quiet until Tuesday (11/13), when a letter from Fuckstain arrived in the mail. It claims we owe Fuckstain approx. $2,060 for September and October rent with associated late fees, as well as various and sundry charges for damages, repairs, and cleaning. He generously agreed to apply our deposit and lease termination fee against this balance, leaving a balance due of $765, of which he would generously allow us to make payments of $250 on 11/15, $250 on 12/15, and $265 on 1/15.

Um...fuck you.

Now that he had our attention, Ben called him and they ended up getting into a shouting match. According to Ben, Fuckstain was yelling something about "just pay what you think is fair" when Ben hung up on him.

Here's the rub--yes, our lease states we're responsible for rent until the place is re-rented. But we gave him two-and-a-half months to find a new tenant. Which is more than enough time--assuming, of course, one advertises the property, which Fuckstain did not, even after Ben offered to use his free classified access on Fuckstain's behalf. "Oh, no, I've never had to advertise." How did he advertise the property? He put a sign in the front yard. In mid-August. Even with this complete lack of marketing, there was interest. I, personally, took two people through the house and gave them Fuckstain's number to call about it. But Fuckstain is picky (won't rent to pet owners) and he's proud of his shit--the amount he charges for rent on that place is ridiculous compared to comparable rentals in the area.

So while we're willing to admit we owe him rent for September, and will possibly even own up to a late fee for that month, there's no way in fucking hell we're going to give him rent for October.

And there's no way in fucking hell we're going to pay him a "dirty stove fee" or a "dirty fridge" fee. I've seen stoves and refrigerators after my husband has his way with them, and there's no way there was a speck of anything on either of them. We're not paying $45 for "mow grass x3" because we mowed right before we moved out, and as dry as September and October were, you're not telling me he had to mow at all. We're not paying "$50 utilities (estimate)" for the month and a half we weren't there. We're not paying him to replace every single mini-blind in that house, because they were disgusting when we moved in, and that's called "normal wear and tear," for which we are not responsible. Nor are we paying him for any of the other bullshit charges he lists in his letter.

What I'm wondering now is...how big of a dick will he be to prove his penis is bigger than ours? Is it worth it to him to file a case against us? For $765, it'd have to be small claims, so there wouldn't be any lawyers involved. Except he knows I work for one and would be therefore getting free advice backstage. And I also intend to argue heavily on the "failure to mitigate damages" side--sticking a sign in the yard isn't going to rent a place, you idiot, and everyone knows that.

So I'm debating whether to (a) ignore it unless and until we get a summons in the mail; or (b) write him a letter disputing the charges as he has listed them, and submitting a list of our own charges and credits (which leaves us owing zip) and see what happens next. I'm leaning toward (b), but honestly, I'd rather just sweep it under the rug and hope it goes away. But that's just the pregnancy talking. I know damn good and well things don't just go away. Db's still breathing, after all.

So I guess it's not unusual that I had a dream last night wherein we realized we can't afford our mortgage and started looking for a rental. And then I thought, "well, even if we find one, we won't be able to sell our house because the market sucks."

I gotta stop watching the news before bed.