Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Okay, life has a way of taking control and hijacking one’s space. It did for me. First an earthquake, then a hurricane, that flooded my apartment. Just as I was ready to move back in, my computer crashed as we were hit by a snowstorm. One does not have anything to do with the other, but it happened on the same day. With ice on the lines, they snapped sending an arcing live wire right into Mrs. Gore, my neighbor who was smoking out back while still attached to her oxygen tank. You can only imagine what happened next. She became a jet engine, on full throttle. Mrs. Gore was blasted back indoors which ignited the downstairs hall. The only reason any of us, survived was because of Dimples her dog, who has more sense than his owner. Little Dimples alerted everyone to the fire, and Mrs. Gore's unconscious body, laying near the front door. Yep, she was thrown right down the hall to land in a heap at the front door, leaving a blaze of glory behind. We all got out, and Mrs. Gore, still attached to her little small jet engine tank, was dragged outside to lie in the snow and smolder. When the alarms screamed, I was putting away my clothes because I had just MOVED back in. I grabbed James T. Parakett, and hit the stairs as the sprinkler system malfunctioned and drenched everything, including me. Once outside, I stood freezing, literally, because I was all wet and in my slippers. Who should pull up, but Officer cute-as-a-button, Javier, and put me and James T. Parakeet in the backseat of his unit. At least I could stop shaking and thaw a bit. I watched the flames blow out the windows of my apartment that took my Kindle, clothes and crashed computer. When I was able to get back inside the next day, I found one very cute CL wedge and my pink and black polka-dot bra the only things I could salvage, which is why I haven’t written anything in almost two months, no computer. My computer, (if it could be fixed) was a melted mess of plastic and whatever else computers are made of, no chance of a fix now. Dio mi punisce, lo so appena.
Oh, but that’s not where it ends. I was laid-off from my job the next week, because I guess not as many people can afford over priced attorneys, who fret over paper more than their clients. So I’m now unemployed and homeless, sort-of. I had my parents, Nona and Henry, so I did have a roof over my head, and more food then I knew what to do with. You know Italians, where there's a disaster, every type of pasta known to man and Italy comes out. Not good for the thighs.
Things do get better. I had renters insurance. It gave me enough money to replace some of my clothes and my computer. Henry’s latest boyfriend gave me his old Kindle, because he was getting the newer one. So at least I’m back in business. I’m moved into Henry’s guestroom for as long as I need to be. He knew Nona and my parents would drive me crazy. Now I have a posh Manhattan address, with a cellie who is in the fashion industry. Samples here I come. I even have a new job. It doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays my bills. I wasn’t the only victim of the lack of law suits, so was P.I Sean. So he decided to start his own P.I service, or stop doing it on the sly, and open an office in the back of a Chinese restaurant, because he can’t afford a big space. He hired me to answer phones, do research and take cases. The drawback I smell like Chinese food when I get home at night that's not far from my the new 'office'. No more commuting. So I guess things happen for a reason and smelling like pork chow mien isn't so bad.
Now I’m back in business, sort-of. Oh, and Mrs. Gore survived, just fine, with only a bump on her head. Her daughter, didn’t see it that way, and now she lives with her, and had to give up Dimples. So guess who has him? Me and Henry. He’s the best dressed dog in Manhattan.
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