When We Last Left Our Heroine...

...she was busy exploding hard boiled eggs, which is what happens if you are making hard boiled eggs and forget about them. Oh, well.

So I got through my deeply dull reception day and went home and slept very fast in order to get up at 3:30 am for my 5:30 am bus to the Boardwalk. Oh, my GOD, it was cold out there. If you recall (and if you happen to be in the New York area), it was gray, and damp, and never got past the low 50s all day long. This is NOT weather during which you want to spend 12 hours outdoors in summer clothing, which is what we did. Brrr.

Wednesday we had a late call (11 am, which is REALLY late for Boardwalk), and since nobody told us any differently, we all kind of assumed that we would be having a short shooting day just to finish up what we had been doing the day before. Wrong. It was a day into night shot, and we got signed out around 1 am. The weather was a great deal better (it actually got into the 70s at one point and the sun was shining), but since we were working until way after dark, it got just as damn cold after the sun went down. I am getting DEEPLY tired of being cold.

Thursday I didn't even bother to get dressed...nice warm flannel pajamas and fuzzy bathrobe and a blanket wrapped around on top of that because I still couldn't get warm enough to suit me (note to self: install steam room in kitchen). I spent the day doing my taxes and discovering that I've done something deeply wrong with my state taxes...I don't see how by any possible stretch of the imagination I can owe New York State over $600 in taxes when my adjusted gross income was under $13,000. That doesn't make any sense. I presume they'll figure it out. I hope they do this before cashing the check I sent them, because said check was a complete flight of fantasy as concerns how much money I actually have in the bank. But given the volume of tax forms coming in right now, I think I can rest easy in the knowledge that they can't possibly get around to cashing mine before this coming Monday (I mean the 26th), at which point the money WILL be in the bank. Then Sarah came over and I did her taxes.

Friday was another mundane seminar job, but at least I was working with a guy I like very much, with whom I've worked before. And Saturday I woke up, read the papers, and immediately went back to bed (having prudently told Richard the real estate man that NOBODY was coming over to look at anything that day unless they wanted a charming view of me snoring with my mouth open).

And today we had another open house, with some repeat people who wanted another look, which is always a hopeful sign...Richard seemed stoked about it, anyway.

One of the people who turned up today was a realtor for one of the couples who had already seen the house, and I nearly killed her. Talk about a pit bull. Loud braying voice, and she kept asking the damndest questions...such as "What's above your bathroom ceiling?" How the hell would I know? It never occurred to me to take the ceiling apart to look. Frankly, she was so damned determined that I was desperately afraid she was about to take a sledgehammer out of her purse to find out for herself. Richard told me that when he told her about the upcoming new construction that's going to be on the other side of the street, she barked at him, "Where are they gonna put the crane?" Well, since Richard doesn't happen to be the construction foreman for that building, how the hell would he know? She also remarked to her clients that my circuit breaker box is illegal. Oh, well. I suppose that's nice to know, but I can't imagine what she wants me to do about it. Actually I think most of the wiring in this place is fairly illegal, since to my certain knowledge, the electrician who put it in was stoned out of his gourd on coke when he did it (he's an old friend...we didn't find out about his doing the wiring until we moved in here, long after he'd done it...he's cleaned up now, but our wiring is quite strange).

I must say it's a strange feeling to have people tromping about through your house inspecting it. I have no illusions about how the place looks (clean but decidedly lived in), so that bit doesn't bother me too much, but I confess to an enormous desire to do something off the wall...you know, lay a three foot dildo casually across my pillow, have a male friend take a shower in the upstairs bathroom during the open house and unconcernedly walk naked into the bedroom while the lookers are there...something interesting. But I guess not, not if I want to sell the place.

Meanwhile, after all that last week I haven't got a single thing on the horizon until Friday, which is Mildred Pierce. Luckily all that stuff last week will net me around $500, and my Social Security turns up on the 26th, so I can afford to relax for a few days...tomorrow I'm going to get those lamps. I was going to do it on Saturday, but the thought of going to Jack's on Saturday with the rest of the immediate world was just awful. So I shall trot off after I read the papers tomorrow morning.

Love, Wendy