Grump Central Archive: Week of 24 June 2018
Saturday, 30 June. I was right about yesterday: there was no news. I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to keep my spirits up.
Friday, 29 June. Today I'm supposed to learn when closing takes place. I'm not putting any money on this actually happening, but even if we did close soon, the prospect of finally being able to finish my home is losing its appeal. My mood is slipping badly; not caring one way or the other should really bother me, and it doesn't.
Thursday, 28 June. Well, nothing unusual or interesting happened after yesterday's breakfast club meeting, but the tuxedo stray stopped by for an afternoon snack, so the entire menagerie made an appearance. I'm going to need more cat food...
Wednesday, 27 June. Seems I have a breakfast club on my porch. This curiously pleasant meeting of minds between raccoon, cat and human was a unique, almost otherworldly experience. And it wasn't a brief encounter, either; this went on for a good 15-20 minutes. Everyone was totally cool. Bobby and Rocky (well, you saw that coming, right?) sniffed each other a few times before Bobby just plopped down to chill, and there were moments I could have reached out and petted Rocky while I held my camera just a foot or so from his head. I wonder, if the day starts like this, what will the rest be like?
Tuesday, 26 June. The three year anniversary of the property sale debacle is now receding in my rear view mirror. That's really depressing. Friends still say (with increasing frustration) there's got to be something you can do. And I still answer, no, my hands are tied. There are no legal options open to me. Life sucks, and then it sucks some more.
Monday, 25 June. Another week, another step closer to the grave. I'm hoping I live long enough to see the house finished—my health is getting progressively shakier.
Sunday, 24 June. Yesterday evening, as I was returning home, a deer ran across the drive in front of me; he was headed in the general direction of my house. And I had a thought (not the first time, mind!) that, while I may own this bit of terrain according to human laws, it really belongs to the animals. And I mentally thanked the deer—and all of the other animals I've seen—for sharing it with me. Although admittedly it's not as if they have a choice that I'm here, I genuinely respect their dominion over me as the true owners of this land; I'm merely a squatter. If there was some legal way to bequeath it to them, and them alone, I would.
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