House searching is a monster to deal with.

So here's a nifty video about monsters.

The government housing program that I'm struggling with is becoming about as useful as a chocolate teapot. It wouldn't be so bad if the program provided housing coverage in a nearby county, where a nice house that I want resides, but it only works in my county.

This wouldn't be such a big deal if the town I live in wasn't becoming more and more of a drug-dealing pipeline. Trulia. com is a realtor site that has a crime map feature. According to that site's crime map, my town has three huge dark blue blotches engulfing two-thirds of the town, meaning robbery, assault and other ugliness. The houses that my government-assigned realtor is trying to sell me cheap are in areas that I wouldn't venture to in the day. A town to the south of me is a little quieter, but the commute is murder. Agh!

The good news is that my long work history at one job and my credit score got me pre-qualified for a 30k down payment on a house with this government program. (That money can only be used my the assigned realtor, however. Boo.) If I can get that result from the government, maybe I can strike a deal with my bank. If I can get that kind of money to wave under the nose of the realtor who owns that aforementioned nice house in that nearby county, I can kiss this crappy town goodbye. I have to at least try.

After all, my landlord is acting more and more like a monster, going so far as to suggest to his friends that we let the house crumble (lies) that he has to mow the lawn (super-lies) and that my roommate and I are gay lovers. (Are you flippin' kidding?)

I swear, as soon as I move to (hopefully) that nice house, my old landlord is going to get a lawyer's boot up his backside.
I can be a monster, too. But only when I need to be.