Only thing I can really pin on this from yesterday is my proposed sub-tenant emailing to see if today would be a good day for him to drop off the security deposit, and with Progressed Venus in Taurus, I guess that's as good as any for a manifestation.
Other than that, a day like all the others since I've been down here; sorting, packing, throwing out, ripping up, importing another three or four of the music CDs I'm supposed to be selling, attempting to amuse Sweet Pea in his miserable captivity, a couple of trips to the thrift shop and watching a few more 1940 English films noir on YouTube; an attempt to be less xenophobic and watch The Killers failed after five minutes, but I did like Brighton Rock.
So onward and onward is the only way to go. Will my landlord (who I just discovered was away for two weeks over the holidays, not one, let the sublet go forward? It's in the hands of his wife, he tells me, who if she has objected has probably done so to the address in Cambridge, as that was the contact information I so cleverly gave when I sent the Return Receipt Requested Notice of Intent to Sublet. Worst case scenario is I get up to my new dwelling place on Feyerweather on Sunday with the mattress tied to the top of the van and find out the sublet's being contested, but I'll lug those boxes up the stairs when I have to, or, to use a more easily understood metaphor, cross that bridge when I come to it.
Doubtless inspired by all the films noir I've been absorbing, my intention (!!!!) was to continue with the suspenseful questions as some kind of clever wrap-up to this post, but I've lost interest - a kinder way of saying I'm not up to it right now - too many boxes of books to take to the thrift shop.
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