One of the big campaign promises from Vancouver’s mayor (whom I voted for) was ending homelessness, and contrary to all promises, the city has just kicked us out of our home. The owner of our rental passed away recently with no will and I mistakenly imagined that there would have to be an amount of time that passed before the city, the trustee, could sell. What if an heir turned up? I guess I was wrong.

What’s a little more insulting is that we haven’t actually had official word from the city, we just had realtor Barbara (BrahBrah) Graham call up to ask if it was ok to show it this Sunday. During dinner, yet – I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone.

Brahbrah seemed to be slightly affronted that this Sunday was not convenient, like I was just saying it to get back at her because I was pissed and NOT because I’m having my in-laws over for a brunch like we do every year when they visit us from Montreal, so we can also invite over those friends that we’re closest to and share what our lives are like when they’re not visiting us.

Why does the city have to kick us out of the place where my daughter was born? There’s a property manager, its not like they even have to look after it. No, they’d rather move us all out into the street. It’s looking pretty likely that the best possible outcome will be finding a basement suite for double the amount we’re paying now somewhere way the hell out so that my son will have to change schools and we’ll have to buy a car just so we can get anywhere.

I shake my fist at you, Gregor Robertson.