Boys ‘n girls, I have internet at home!
Life is…well, not spectacular, precisely, I am still lonely, horny, and unhappy, like a sexually frustrated Eeyore, but it’s a definite improvement. No more piggybacking on the neighbor’s unsecured wireless at Deb’s place. Thank goodness. I was starting to long for the days of my 14.4 modem, a veritable speed demon by comparison.
Most of the bookcases are assembled. I unpacked a number of books, made the usual discovery that I have many more books than bookcase space, sighed heavily, bought more bookcases, unpacked more books, made the same discovery, wondered vaguely where all the books come from–did I really have this many in my old apartment? But I have twice as many bookcases! And I got rid of some books! And more got lost in the mail! Did the survivors breed in the boxes? (That would explain all these Dean Koontz novels I haven’t read…perhaps the unfortunate bastard offspring of an overenthusiastic copy of The Tommyknockers and whatever fantasy novels it happened to catch alone in the bottom of the box…)
And now, to go do laundry at Deb’s. (Deb, who has saved me utterly and earned a permanent free-kidney voucher, is still bein’ cool. The other day, having learned that I did not eat all day last Friday owing to severe stress, she bought three enormous slabs of Cheesecake Factory cheesecake, brought them home, grabbed me by the mostly metaphorical scruff of the neck, and practically rubbed my nose on them, as if I were some peculiar bloodhound required to track lost cheesecakes through the swamp. Food is her way of expressing love. I have required both food and love in great quantity of late, and I shall be eternally grateful for both.)
And then I come home and work like a dog.