In the continuing saga of Rachael’s new home, I still ain’t got no key. The ex-owner (referred to hereafter as Adam Henry. Police code, don’tcha know) still hasn’t returned my realtor’s calls. Instead, he is making his cop brother call her. The cop brother (referred to hereafter as Ineffective But Trying) told Ghet that he would do his best to wrap up his “deep undercover” gig and come over with his truck to remove the staging furniture last night. I’ve been at work, so I don’t know if this has been done or not. IBT tried to soothe Ghet’s ruffled feathers. She had none of it. He then asked for my phone number, so he could try to straighten things out with me. She said, “She’s too nice for you to talk to.” She related all of this gleefully to me. She enjoys this kind of fighting. This is a mentality I just do not understand, but I can definitely appreciate it.
I think this was mamacate‘s idea: I should find out where Mr. Henry lives and leave him a present. No, not dog-doo in a bag. No, TPing his house would just be silly.
I think Mr. Henry needs a desk. Like, in his driveway. Whatcha think? A housecooling present. Hmmm.
Irregardless*, come Saturday morning, if I don’t have that key, I’m getting a locksmith in to change the locks and let me in. I’ll then use my movers at Mr. Henry’s expense and dump his shit in the street. Or in the carport, since I don’t want to get sued. But it’s way more fun to think about it in the street.
And then, only then, will I begin to worry about subletting/leasing my old apartment. I have until December 1st to get the vacancy filled, so I’ve got time to finish moving and cleaning, but this is my dream, and I want it to come true sooner, rather than later: I’m sitting in my tiny living room, knitting and watching TV, a cat nearby and a La sitting close. The old apartment is rented, happily and easily. I’m unpacked, and the walls are painted. The house is clean and sweet, and I’m home. Soon, soon, soon. So may it be, as our Greta would say.
DSL is down at home until at least Monday, and I’m off work until Tuesday, so I will be completely offline for a while. Pictures then? Hopefully? In the meantime, I’ll show you the poncho my girl Kalea received (running mate Marama’s daughter). I made it to match the realtor’s girls’ ponchos, also in the Cashmerino. She was so tickled that she wanted to pose, and she told her mom she couldn’t wear it to school because she played tag a lot, “and it might get snagged.” When she brushed her teeth wearing it, she asked her mother to wrap a towel around her first.
And of course, the Iris:
Isn’t she a fabulous poncho diva?
Have a great weekend, all. Keeses!
*I just wanted to watch the Grammar Avengers squirm. Heh.
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