I’ve been kicked out of Myrlene’s house, where I had been renting a room the past couple of weeks. I truly don’t understand what has happened, but after much pondering I’ve come to the conclusion that the girls, led by 18-year-old Bobbie, had begun to resent my presence. I was continually trying to bring a semblance of order to this squalid house, doing dishes and picking up dog-chewed debris, and this tendency of mine, I surmise, made their lazy ways appear worse in contrast.
My friend Doug (Ava’s fiancé) has volunteered to bring his pickup truck by this morning and help me move my stuff back to my building, which still lacks power and water. I really don’t want to return to that oven of a brick building, but I simply have no where else to go. To top off this seemingly unending chain of bad luck, my cell phone endured a full wash cycle along with my laundry. I’m hoping I can dry it out. I may be off the net for a day or two; my next post might well originate from rural New London.
Wish me luck!