In other words, the police are gonna be dragging me out the door

Basically, I’m just refusing to leave this apartment. The police are gonna drag me out the door, and the maintenance people are gonna throw all my belongings into the garbage, including sentimental things that I want to keep, and things that are worth money, like the sewing machine.

Magical saviors sometimes do come, but you have to assume they won’t, until they do. You can’t just walk off the edge of the cliff and hope God will catch you. You have to avoid cliffs, or use a parachute or a hang glider. And so on.

My cat would love to live in the woods again. I feel bad keeping him here. I can’t complain about my roommate right now, but she’s afraid of cats and doesn’t want him to roam the apartment. She came back the other day, so I’m keeping him locked in the bedroom again. I hate this.


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