The visit from the Parole Officer

Yesterday, I got a knock on my door at 11am.  It was Parole Officer W.  I had gotten a phone call from this particular fellow a little over a week before asking me a bunch of questions about myself and my husband.  He had also informed me that my residence was not a suitable place for him to reside because it is a couple of feet too close to the local YMCA.  Then he told me that I had to get rid of my computer, my cell phone, any and all forms of pornography, among other random bits of bullshit.


And, in reference to finding a new place of residence that was suitable for my husband to live, he said that if I didn't find a suitable address within the next week, that he would have to fail his inspection to the courts.  In all, I was given two weeks to find, procure, sign paperwork, and pay first and last months rent on a place more suitable for a sex offender to live.  Oh, and he suggested that the place be rural since living in close proximity to people might cause problems with neighbors because he is registered, AND that he is not allowed to get a driver's license or drive, so I would be responsible for getting him to all of his programs and treatment, regardless of my work schedule.

Now, where was the last rural setting that you know of that has convenient public transportation?  If he has a class during my working hours, I either have to take time off to get him there, or drop him off so he can wait, and then pick him up after I get out of work, which is probably after the scheduled curfew he would be given, and then he could be violated solely for missing curfew or simply loitering outside the place where his class would be held.

And this is on top of the fact that I am flat broke, in the negative, and my credit score is well below what is warranted to find a mortgage.  So finding a place to live where he can live is pretty much impossible at the moment..  More to follow...gotta get back to work...