Reality Bites: There's No Place Like Home

It had been less than 48 hours since the piss that broke the camel’s back, 48 hours since he’d lugged six packed suitcases up to a nearby hotel. And things had never been better… for J-Fed.

Now, I admit that a day without J-Fed was like a day with sunshine. However, it was immediately becoming clear that I was on the losing end of this deal. While J-Fed enjoyed the solace of his new abode, he was still enjoying all of the comforts of home. Let’s just give a rundown of the morning’s phone calls.

8:30 a.m.

“You’re still going to help me with my business right?” he asked frantically.

“Yes, of course,” I told him.

“OK, good. I need you to pay company X and company Y. Thanks! Have a good one,” I could almost picture him skipping merrily at the prospect of having me do all his grunt work while he remained carefree. Bleck!

10:15 a.m.

“I’m coming by later to get some things,” he forewarned me in the next call.

I figured it was the socks and underwear I’d forgotten to pack, but no. I guess he had yet to notice those were a few of the essential items that remained folded neatly in his drawers.

“I need to get a few bars of soap and some toilet paper. The toilet paper here hurts my ass and the soap smells like crap,” he informed me. I guess the toiletries at the motel weren’t up to par.

5:40 p.m.

"What’s for dinner?” he said happily.

“I don’t know. What are they serving up at the HoJo? We’re having grilled skirt steak, brown rice and corn on the cob,” I told him.

“Great. I’ll be by in 20 minutes,” he said before quickly hanging up.