06/04/01
A couple of writing pieces down, several more to go. My room’s a wreck and much like my soul, smells a bit singed of late.
Singed? Yeah. My halogen lamp is apparently the infamous bug burial ground and that’s where the jiggers, cooties, & bugaboos of the house go to die. And fry.
It smells like burnt hair. Only worse cuz I know it’s critters fricasseeing up there. Gross huh? And yeah, I’m popping back sooner than I expected but apparently my internet addiction is too wacked out.
Too stupid to mention.
Has anyone seen a black version of this chair? Let’s just say that the police officer I had to speak with when filing the burglary report was not amused.
“You mean I’m here because of a chair?”
“Um, yes… but it’s a chair that’s worth more than I pay for rent.”
“But why the hell would someone steal a chair.”
“Beats me.”