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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2002-12-24 | 8:16 p.m. There was a fabulous, 3 paragraph long entry sitting here. Really. I finished, wiped my eyes and blew my nose, and felt that it was the most vulnerable entry I've dared to write so far. That's when I lost it. *POOF!* Disappeared. Eyep. Now, 5 hours later, I'm not crying anymore. Actually, Diary, I do feel better. See, I wrote the silly thing right after I talked to the nice lady in Wilmington about sending me a packet for Sand Ridge apartments. She said it will be here around Saturday, give or take. This being a holiday week, I don't expect it till maybe Tuesday. I give up. No more waiting to hear from brokers, or seeing out of the corner of my eye a wonderful little colonial right near downtown.... Screw them. You know, over in Norwich, a young woman was killed this week. Stabbed to death. She had a little child, and was expecting another. Apparently she used to waitress 12 hours a week, but was also smoking crack and prostituting herself on the side..... prolly why she wound up stabbed to death. They found her cold, lifeless body outside in a park. Really sad. The article said she had just been approved for a mortgage. So I get to wait. And wait, at least another year before that joing bankruptcy comes off my credit report. You remember that delightful episode, don't you Diary? That was the time Joe applied for a couple of major credit cards in my name and didn't mention it. Ran them up. Ran everything we had up. Ya. I'm waiting in Wilmington. Maybe March 1st or 15th. Won't know until the office manager finds out if she's got any 3 bedrooms for me. Well, me and the girls and Joe. Maybe Tim, too. The boys have their own place, but they're here all the time regardless. Diary, they want to be with us. When they start talking about the fun times they had growing up in 'the house on Horse Pond' I'll just have to make them change the subject. I'm not the one who took that away from them. I'm not the one that didn't keep my promise. We're all brokenhearted, all of us. Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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