When it rains . . .

It fucking pours. Both in the fields of iniquity and men.

 

Part 1: I spent the last month frantically trying to find more roommates and placate my landlord and the other future roommates because my evil current roommate "decided" June 8 that she wanted to move out June 31. Our apartment holds four, and for July we were going to scrape along with two. You bet I was scared. And pissed. And afraid to give vent to any of these emotions lest she upped and left in the night with all our furniture, which is hers.

And the iniquity at work. I take two weeks to do easy tasks because I'm too stone-bored to spend more than a few minutes on them without reading a blog. And the doing things outside my job description, and the needing a car, which I don't have, and the indecision about whether to get one or not. (Environment--convenience. Money--not screwing up at work due to lack of car.)

 

But on the other hand . . .

 

Part 2: Out of town friend sets me up with in-town friend, a tall Harvard lawyer . . .

Evening class yields contact with impish brown-eyed nonprofit manager . . .

And today, Will the Work Hottie RETURNS IN A BLAZE OF GLORY.

 

And so, it seems, does Elle.