I haven't written anything in a couple of weeks. I haven't read much, either. The end of the semester seems to have let all the air out of me and I'm expending energy on everything else but reading and writing.
A rainstorm a few weeks ago evidenced a massive leak in our bedroom ceiling, and yesterday, workmen tramped in and out of the apartment all day...doing...stuff. This was the result:
Yeah. Reassuring. We're looking at other apartments in the area; asbestos is kind of the last straw with this place.
We're sleeping in the living room. During the day, the box spring and mattress lean across the couch. Like a Murphy bed, except a lot more work. They still have to put actual drywall in the ceiling and presumably paint it with that popcorn crap. So there will be more tramping. For some reason, I am incapable of being pleasant and shit-happens-y about all this, even though it's just a couple of days of inconvenience. All I want to do is bitch.
At the end of this week I travel to Florida for the Christmas holiday. After that will come a couple of weeks of taking it easy. Everything in between the Vegas party and New Year's feels like marking time. I am not in the holiday spirit, and I'm not ready for 2014, and I really just want to sleep in my bedroom.
Sorry. There'll be actual Fictating sometime soon.