Fit to be Tied

please God, grant me more patience . . .

Image by Thanks for your Likes from Pixabay

I’ll start with the good news.

Got an email last week saying I’ve been accepted to be a renter in the senior housing project where I most want to live. The bad news . . . I don’t trust this notice. It doesn’t cover all the points that need covering.

This notice says I’ve been accepted as a renter but there’s no mention of whether or not I qualify for the subsidy I would need to live anywhere on the central California coast. So, I’m still in wait-and-see mode.

I had just promised myself that I would not speak to the property manager again as long as I’m stuck here. It’s really bad for my mental health.

Then I hobbled out my door on crutches to go do my very painful walking routine today. I’m not super friendly to begin with, but when I’m in this much pain, it’s best to steer clear.

Meeting up with Diana was unavoidable.

I didn’t want to speak because earlier, helping my driver with a big grocery order, he was parked in the boss’s spot. Diana drove up, arriving to work. I was expecting to get blasted for inconveniencing the bitch.

Forget about HER ongoing construction project that’s been clogging parking. It’s taken them two years…