I’ve had something like 68 responses to my post. I tried to take it down this evening, but it still seems to be up. This morning at 8:30 am I was very rude to the young man who came, unannounced, to inquire about the apartment. I rolled out of bed, got dressed, and snarled at him. When the last renter fell through today, I called him. I felt bad for being rude this morning, even though it was totally inappropriate for him to show up here this morning. He had to come before work. He seemed desperate. He applied. We’ll know if he was accepted next week. He promised that he would water the tomato plants, and he showed up later with his mom. I don’t want to rent this place to just anyone. I want someone who will take care of it. I’ve grown to love it here. I just know that I’m going to get lost in the enormity of my new apartment. A one bedroom! I’ve been living in a studio so long I won’t know what to do with myself. Ah, well, it was a good run.
p.s. It’s looking like all of the incoming grad students are big S.F. fans. Something tells me I won’t fit in. Most of my reading is internet trash, Vogue and People. Definitely not S.F. If S.F. is a prerequisite to R/C, I’m screwed.


3 thoughts on “

  1. syllepsis

    S.F.? What is this S.F.? San Francisco? Science Fiction? Sofa Fantasy? Sordid Feet? Sunday Fries? Soap Footballs? Side eFfects? Scary Fiends? Smarmy Friends? Soiled Frenchmen?


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