I like David Foster Wallace, and readily identify with him. He reminds of my Dad, who 20 years ago, at 47, had hanged himself for reasons he had chosen not to divulge to anyone, at least not anyone I know.
It alarms me how the people I identify with tend to kill themselves...
But I have always loved C.S. Lewis, and that's gotta be good.
My 6A short is still very red, but looking much better now than a month ago. I decided a hard stop is in order. Definitely not bailing right now. Call me stubborn or stupid or one of those who shouldn't trade, I am happy to sit on a trade that I have neither the time nor energy to monitor on even a daily basis.
We took in a rescue cat whose foster mother named Cookie and whom we decide to call "Rob" (short for Roberto). Shan't post pictures in case I have to return him to his foster after the 2-week trial that ends next Monday. Rob has a sense of humor that is seriously lacking in my 3 standoffish British Shorthairs. The 3 girls expect the tiny guy to be initiated the exact way they were when they first joined the family. But Rob JUST REALLY WANTS TO HAVE FUN. My girls will have none of that. So, it's been difficult. The 3 girls promptly turn into cats from hell whenever Rob is allowed out of his room to roam the house. So, we'll see...
The Rogue Tenant
The dashing pilot has kept me occupied for the past weeks and is now the number one suspect for the return of these mysterious nerve pains that have plagued me and stumped general physicians and specialists for the past 20 years.
Both D and our agent had a hard time getting the pilot off their backs since 2 months ago - I blame it on their tendency to be overly trusting, giving, and responsive to nonsense - and I stepped in to convince Mr Pilot he is better off staying til the end of the contract term, which is 6 months from now. He was scheduled to handover the apartment today (he was welcomed to, if he left a check before he handed over the keys), but notified our agent yesterday that he would stay til the end of the contract term. Yes, he most certainly messed with the wrong landlady. I can be a professional debt-collector! Hur..hur...hur...
I'll be on my guards from now on. It's a down-turning market - if my nicest tenant has attempted to profit from it (I would have let him off the hook, knowing full well what was cooking, had he not sabotaged all but the first viewings in a bid to discourage further viewings that disturb his relaxing evenings, and had he not patronized our agent who has become a trusted friend) at our expense, I am sure it's just a matter of time before the others get on board...
I applied for a humble junior executive position at our AVA's Animal and Pets Sector, and they had promptly rejected me. I really shouldn't have said in 2500 words how much I love cats.
I fear if I don't find a job, or see green pastures, mountains, humongous lakes (I hate the sea) or snow soon enough I'll implode.