They Say What They Say

When I got home last night, there was a card advising me that there was a registered letter from my real estate agency waiting for me at the post office in my letter box. Since I'd gone home via the supermarket, the post office was well and truly closed by the time I got the card, so I had to wait until this morning before I could pick the letter up.

The last time I received a registered letter from my real estate agency I was moving house a week later, so you can imagine how pleased I was to find this little missive in my letter box. So of course me being me, my imagination goes into overdrive and before I know it I've convinced myself that the owners of my flat are going to kick me out on my ear with nary a thank you for being such a good tenant over the past six years. I then proceed to feed the monster by trawling the online real estate sites, looking for a new place to live just in case my deranged imaginings came true.

Three hours later I've seen some God-awful, expensive, not-half-as-nice-as-the-one-I'm-currently-living-in flats and I'm utterly certain that I'm going to end up as a bag lady living surreptitiously in the basement at work. A very sleepless night thus ensues (and the few moments of rest that I did manage to snatch involved a rather lewd dream about Callum Keith Rennie that I don't want to remember but can't get out of my mind!) By the time I drag myself out of bed some time around dawn, I'm little more than a walking zombie with the intelligence to match.

And after all that it turns out that I do get to stay, I just have to pay and extra $20.00 a month for the privilege of having a roof over my head from September.

I think I'll get a hamburger and ice cream on my way home from work and drown my sorrows in grease and fat. It's the least I can do.

When I got home last night, there was a card advising me that there was a registered letter from my real estate agency waiting for me at the post office in my letter box. Since I'd gone home via the supermarket, the post office was well and truly closed by the time I got the card, so I had to wait until this morning before I could pick the letter up.

The last time I received a registered letter from my real estate agency I was moving house a week later, so you can imagine how pleased I was to find this little missive in my letter box. So of course me being me, my imagination goes into overdrive and before I know it I've convinced myself that the owners of my flat are going to kick me out on my ear with nary a thank you for being such a good tenant over the past six years. I then proceed to feed the monster by trawling the online real estate sites, looking for a new place to live just in case my deranged imaginings came true.

Three hours later I've seen some God-awful, expensive, not-half-as-nice-as-the-one-I'm-currently-living-in flats and I'm utterly certain that I'm going to end up as a bag lady living surreptitiously in the basement at work. A very sleepless night thus ensues (and the few moments of rest that I did manage to snatch involved a rather lewd dream about Callum Keith Rennie that I don't want to remember but can't get out of my mind!) By the time I drag myself out of bed some time around dawn, I'm little more than a walking zombie with the intelligence to match.

And after all that it turns out that I do get to stay, I just have to pay and extra $20.00 a month for the privilege of having a roof over my head from September.

I think I'll get a hamburger and ice cream on my way home from work and drown my sorrows in grease and fat. It's the least I can do.

Had the most embarrassing thing happen to me at work today.

We had one of those things where there were only two of us around, the boss had popped in before he went home and the phones started ringing. I'm on one line, C (work colleague) is on the other and suddenly my mobile starts ringing as well. Obviously I couldn't answer it so I just left it, but I don't think the boss likes to see phones left to ring, because suddenly he's fossicking in my handbag so he can answer my phone!

I couldn't believe it. I could have had, you know, really embarrassing girly things in there. Fortunately I didn't, but that's not the point. The point is is that he just assumed I'd be okay with him reaching into my handbag without so much as a 'Do you mind?' The cheek of the man! And to make matters worse, my newly arrived due South season three DVDs* were sitting next to my bag, so now he knows about my fangirl obsession with Callum and Paul.

Speaking of which, now that I have the dS pilot on DVD, I have a copy of the pilot on PAL VHS that needs a good home. So if anyone on my flist would like to adopt it, drop me a line at laylee at livejournal dot com.

Sorry folks, it's gone to to a good home.


Is there anything more heart-wrenching than watching Ray dance alone in his apartment at the end of Strange Bedfellows?

Had the most embarrassing thing happen to me at work today.

We had one of those things where there were only two of us around, the boss had popped in before he went home and the phones started ringing. I'm on one line, C (work colleague) is on the other and suddenly my mobile starts ringing as well. Obviously I couldn't answer it so I just left it, but I don't think the boss likes to see phones left to ring, because suddenly he's fossicking in my handbag so he can answer my phone!

I couldn't believe it. I could have had, you know, really embarrassing girly things in there. Fortunately I didn't, but that's not the point. The point is is that he just assumed I'd be okay with him reaching into my handbag without so much as a 'Do you mind?' The cheek of the man! And to make matters worse, my newly arrived due South season three DVDs* were sitting next to my bag, so now he knows about my fangirl obsession with Callum and Paul.

Speaking of which, now that I have the dS pilot on DVD, I have a copy of the pilot on PAL VHS that needs a good home. So if anyone on my flist would like to adopt it, drop me a line at laylee at livejournal dot com.

Sorry folks, it's gone to to a good home.


Is there anything more heart-wrenching than watching Ray dance alone in his apartment at the end of Strange Bedfellows?