2 br, 1.5 ba, 1 wzl
Somebody was scheduled to come by and look at the house tonight, but my real estate agent just called to say he canceled.
“I don’t know why,” she said, “he drove by the house yesterday morning and liked it, but he drove by again later and there was something he didn’t like.”
I’m guessing that thing was…me. In my new Wal*Mart lawn chair. With a book and a drink and a cat draped across me (no, the other one) like I’d just won the Miss Big Fat Housecat pageant and they gave me one for a sash.
Maybe it’s the change of seasons, or maybe I pushed so hard getting the house ready and looking for Damien that I have somehow exhausted my ordinarily inexhaustible reserves of gloom, anxiety and crank, but I’ve felt all float-y and peaceful this week. Like opiates, but without depleting my stash. All I want to do is sit in my chair and snooze in the sun.
Not to worry. I’ll have a shiny new hair across my ass before you can say, “fuck off and die in a fire!”
May 28, 2008 — 4:20 pm
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