Whose House?

D’s house!

That’s right—I’m chez Daniel for a couple weeks while my crazy landlady is back in town (and my apartment) gathering some more of her things. I visited with her on Sunday morning, sitting out on our (?) deck as she smoked a Virginia Slim and told me about her new life in Minnesota, her new love for anti-depressants, and her new desire to use her ex-boyfriend for sex while she was in town.

“I mean, we’re 60 years old; we’re too old for this shit, you know games and stuff.”

She’s also keeping an eye on Ella which, um, worries me seeing as she confessed to not filling her food dish so that she could jiggle the bag of food to coax Ella out of her hiding spot. I told her not to do that, filled Ella’s dish to the brim and hoped for the best.

Nothing else of note for now, although you’ll be happy to know that I FINALLY got my DC plates and tags on Saturday! The caveat: It cost me 800 big ones. Yep. $800. I threw up on the counter, paid the bill and came home to write my letter of complaint.

We’re off to grab dinner and watch the Bachelorette with some friends. Pitifully (or awesomely?), our group has grown from four to six from last week. Oh, yeah. You read that right, too.

Monday love to you all!

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