so: i talked to the landlord. he says a 'friend' of mine came by to move my paintings to a safer place. what the fuck? i haven't had any friends tell me anything of the sort. is he lying? trying to do a fucker on me? were they stolen? destroyed? sitting in a neighbors' loft?
and apparently my phone guy wasn't even looking in the right place! landlord says verizon put some high-tech phone equipment at the front of the loft to replace the old box in the back, where my guy was working. verizon installed this new equipment; shouldn't the verizon repairman have a clue about it? now i'll need to take another half day to get the right connection working, pay for the now useless jack he installed and for whatever work he's got to do next time. or fuck it. i'll just do what we did last time: string endless phone cords, couplers and splitters from the ninety-nine cent store around the loft, all coming off that one working jack we have...
fuck. i'm agitated.
all the other problems? they should be fixed by next week, the landlord tells me.
meh. my willing suspension of disbelief is faltering badly.
if you're curious, i've posted some pictures of the loft in the forums for the neice (she's not allowed to read the blog). appropriately, the quality of these pictures is very poor indeed.
wah! my god i'm so envious!! i know the stupid problems suck hairy ass, but damn that kitchen is to die for, and so much more light in the back, not to mention the awesome brick wall, i can't wait to see it (and you guys) in the flesh.
oh, and that was me taking your paintings. these new, hip, Williamsburg hookers now trade sexual favors for paintings and leg warmers. good deal!
ah, that kitchen. i remember it well. wait, not so well actually. actually, its all a little bit fuzzy for some reason.