Thursday, December 18, 2003
 

Check this out.

So there's yet another maintenance person in La Casa de Elvisette. Joy. This one is replacing supply lines. He gets a phone call ~2 two minutes, and he's got a cell phone with a cutesy ring. People who own those should be shot.

Before I could let him in, I had to dump laundry from my bathroom to behind and under my bed. So I don't feel like cleaning. So sue me. I kept this place perfectly neat, and no maintenance people showed. And I quit feeling like cleaning. So I stopped. So they come. The universe hates me.

And, of course, I was in bed when this guy came by, as always. I wasn't sleeping; I was just trying to read Tender Buttons and keep warm, but still. And now I have to sit here at the computer and pretend to do something, because lying under the covers and reading Gertrude Stein probably isn't appropriate company behavior.

Alice, oddly, is hiding from this guy. That's extremely abnormal behavior for my gregarious (read: slutty) cat. He must be a serial killer. So, folks, he's driving a black F150 with a silver toolbox in back, some other sort of box (probably another toolbox), brightish green. Olive green coat (currently lying in my floor; make yourself at home, fella).

Late happy hour tonight with American lit class. Woooo. A reason to live?

Elvisette philosophized at 12:54 PM