Finished Damascus’ backstory last week. I really, really hate that my brain takes so much downtime between pushes. But . . . I’m on schedule, iffen that creek don’t rise: All done by the end of the month.
I’m pushing back the anxiety, the anticipated failure. There are SO many bad books out there.
I do just love my brain–I just realized at the end of this that my title is a pun: To make my life even specialler, we’re moving . . . some time. My new leasing manager is a Cambridge gal who thought it was OK to just drag her heels on the BHA inspection, so at this point I’m technically looking at a move-in date of August 1. My big plan was to do it next weekend; I struggled through my part in this; had serious hysterics at the part I bozoed and it got fixed. And now I’m screwed through somebody else’s naivete. It looks like I’ll have to whine on my belly to my BHA agent; collar the new manager and shake; apologize abjectly to my current housing manager, who put up with the hysterics engendered by the bozo above.
Just thinking about this makes me really angry. (Duh.) The new manager gets in to work at 10:30 or so; I’ll leave another message and get down to work myself (albeit changing my Pandora station to a less-distracting offering, i.e., one that does not feature the always-enthralling Mr. Robbie Fulks).
It should be noted that the oft-reviled BHA aren’t the bad guys here. The inspection unit is a bunch of really nice people. Too bad they can’t be scheduled on my say-so.