I am home.
First, the good news:
The jerk 'landlord tried to stick me with a $123 "dispossessed charge" - whatever that is - and I refused to sign anything until it was removed from my account. The bitch attorney sent a flunkey so I missed a chance to say thank you and fuck you to her, much as I wanted to.
I went to the 92nd Y rehearsal, and I think the show will be good, if anyone's interested in coming. Ana Gasteyer made me cry singing "I Don't Want To Live On the Moon" from Sesame Street.