melvin hazen trail | rock creek park

The last few weeks have been some of the most stressful of my life. I don't say that lightly. In bold, open truth and probably too much disclosure, the only things I've ever faced that have left me as emotionally distraught, stressed out and overwhelmed are when my stepfather passed away last year, and fighting to afford to stay in college my freshman year (another story for another time?).

In fact, I hesitate to talk about it at all. I haven't been blogging much lately because I don't exactly know what to say. On Thursday, I wrote about trying ScratchDC, and within that, I talked a little bit about my housing situation - namely, that my roommate Matt and I haven't had heat. That barely scratches the surface of the whole story. Where to even begin?

Matt and I moved into our apartment in September. The rent and the space were both incredible, and we were in the very neighborhood we'd wanted to move. In the first 24 hours after moving in, we knew it was a mistake. The place was a mess. There is a pigeon nest outside of my bedroom window. There's no windowsill on that window ledge. A piece of cardboard was wedged between the AC unit and the remainder of the window to keep it stabilized. Pigeon poop, dirt and leaves covered my floor. Water leaked from the AC unit.

In every room, electrical wiring is exposed and windows hang loosely in their frames. There are cracks in the walls, and the bathroom floor is rotted beneath the tiles. The shower drips constantly, so mildew builds no matter how often we clean it.

We made a list of every problem we found that first weekend. We read through the DC tenant-landlord laws and DC housing code. We highlighted half a dozen housing code violations. We sat down with our landlord for a meeting. We ran through the list wit him, and he laughed at us, physically laughed. "You get what you pay for," he said. He continued to bully us - saying if we "worked" with him, he'd "take care" of us - like, maybe if we played nice, he'd replace the refrigerator that leaks and has two broken shelves.

Total strangers began to tell us that we messed up moving into one of our landlord's buildings. No less than three people said, "Take your rent and go. Get out if you can."

We persevered. 

We were scared. Professional bullies, and slumlords, in our case, are good at it - they're intimidating. And also, Matt and I are used to adversity. That's the only way to say it. I grew up with a single mom. She worked three jobs, and there were brief times where electricity was turned off or we waited a few months until we could afford to have the leak in the living room repaired. "It's life," I kept shrugging. We do what we can with what we have and move on.

Then winter arrived, and the heating source promised to us since we moved in never came. Men arrived at random hours of the day and evening without prior notice to install gas heaters. They ran a gas line from another unit in the building. We didn't feel safe. It was 50 degrees. We finally called in DCRA - the city's housing authority.

We've now had two DCRA inspections, and they want to schedule a third. The second inspector came from the illegal construction unit. He deemed all of the electrical wiring and gas connections illegal. There's even a sewer pipe behind our stove --- ew. He told me off the record that on the path the inspections are on, the building very well may be condemned.

It sounds like a happy ending, kinda, but working with DCRA brought a whole new set of problems with the landlord. He demanded to know why I have gone "guerrilla warfare" on him. Which, come on guys, was kind of a total compliment. But really, it's awful. I panic every time he calls, knowing it's going to be a fight. Matt and I have withheld rent since December, since we don't have adequate living conditions. We've spoken with a tenant advocate, who advises us to take him to court immediately and have the court hold the money.

court? we can't afford that. we can't afford a new apartment. we can't afford to fight him. 

We found out in the midst of all of this that our slumlord? That creep? He's a well-educated, influential lawyer at a big firm here in D.C. There are pictures of him with the president. He contributes to national publications. It just keeps getting better.

So. Last week we did find an apartment. It turns out finding a two-bedroom apartment in D.C. city limits that allows dogs in January, well, is a fairly impossible task. So we found a large one-bedroom apartment with a big enough common space to partition a second bedroom. It is what it is.

It's more than we can really afford. It'll be a stretch. And require sacrifices. But at least we'll be out of this place.

We sold our souls to the slumlord - made a deal that we owe him nothing, can keep the rent we've withheld to afford to move out, if we stop talking to DCRA. I cried. And debated. And had no clue what to do. Ultimately, we had no choice. We don't have the resources to fight him.

One of our applications for the new apartment was denied. In order to live together, we had to find a co-signer.

DCRA has called twice - bless them for following up. City government is good. I don't know what to do. I feel like this is a moment, an issue, a time that is self-defining. I'm between a rock and a hard place. I don't want anyone to ever live in that building like we have. I want to stop him.

I packed up Theo this weekend and went to Zan's. He has been my rock and forced me to realize that sometimes I need help, sometimes I have to accept help, and sometimes I even have to swallow my pride and ask for it.

There's a trail below Zan's apartment. It's the Melvin Hazen trail - part of Rock Creek Park here in the city. I took Theo for a short hike on it, tears stinging my face in the biting cold on Saturday afternoon. It's only about half a mile long. Twenty feet in, I let Theo off-leash. Traipsing through the snow-covered woods that felt much further away from the city than in reality, I let go of it all. I found some peace. And when Theo slid around in the snow and got soaking wet in the stream and ran with wild abandon up and down the hills, I couldn't stop laughing. The only thing better than being in the woods is being in snow-covered woods.

For better or worse, we move into our new apartment on Saturday.

Learn more about the Rock Creek Park trails here. Come hike them with me - they'll practically be in my backyard at the new place!