That is extremely strange. I hope you find something a little better, soon. You could write a story about that. Once, when i was like 19 or 20, i moved in with a couple of "recovering" dope addicts, one of which had become a compulsive gambler and the other one got a job at a methadone clinic to steal methadone. So we were all dirt poor, and i came up with two bucks and gave it to the gambler to buy some milk so we could eat cereal. He came back with the $1.50 worth of milk and i asked for the 50¢ change back to go play mortal Kombat. He got super offended and said i was no longer allowed to touch a single thing they owned, from silverware to furniture. So the only thing i cared about was the phone so i stole a phone (pre-cellphone days) from Walmart so i could call all the fine honeys that were into (basically) homeless hip hopping graffiti writers (a lot, surprisingly). So there i was, phone plugged into the wall in my room and it worked fine, and i left for an hour. I tried to make a call when i got back and the phone didn't work anymore. No dial tone, no lights on the keypad, nothing. Then i notice some paint slivers on the floor under the phone jack. I unscrew the plate from the wall to find that while i was gone the guy had cut the wire leading to my jack in the wall. He denied it, of course. That was the first time in my life i tried applying a spiritual fix to my problems with other people, rather than some devious secret pooping in his winter boots or something. Ahhhh, life. Good times.
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