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A Friday frenzy...
Apr. 8th, 2011 06:27 pmWell, for a while, it seemed as if our tenant was never going to leave, but finally, a few hours ago, he left, ostensibly to go on a road trip that will take him west, to the Left Coast, which is where show-business types probably belong, anyway.
And Mike—our tenant—certainly fits the stereotype of the always-with-an-angle showbiz-type-of-operator who walks around with a Blackberry plastered to his ear, entreating, shmoozing, berating, and cajoling, all at a mile-per-minute. As the immediate subject of our several conversation these past few days has been the state of the house as he was leaving it, it was amazing to hear him disclaim on the subject of "ordinary wear and tear," his desire to be "fair to everybody," and on the overall state of the house as a whole..
Galina and I survived, however, and I comfort myself with the knowledge that—had his portfolio been to promote our modest abode—it would have been praised to the heavens, the very thing for up-and-coming gods and goddesses, with any shortcomings dismissed as utterly beneath contempt.
It's been an interesting 16 months, that's for sure.
Since Mike's truck left, Galina and I have moved most of the books and some other items out of the basement and into the garage, to be sorted. The local library is holding a fund-raising sale later this month, and I plan to donate scads of books. Some that aren't quite donatable (my late mother's books on various aspects of Russian literature) I will try to rid myself of via my network of Russian translator acquaintances.
It's quiet, and I must make sure I do not fall into any kind of pensive state in which I think about the past. The past is a done thing, unchangeable. And not worth dwelling upon.
Cheers...
And Mike—our tenant—certainly fits the stereotype of the always-with-an-angle showbiz-type-of-operator who walks around with a Blackberry plastered to his ear, entreating, shmoozing, berating, and cajoling, all at a mile-per-minute. As the immediate subject of our several conversation these past few days has been the state of the house as he was leaving it, it was amazing to hear him disclaim on the subject of "ordinary wear and tear," his desire to be "fair to everybody," and on the overall state of the house as a whole..
Galina and I survived, however, and I comfort myself with the knowledge that—had his portfolio been to promote our modest abode—it would have been praised to the heavens, the very thing for up-and-coming gods and goddesses, with any shortcomings dismissed as utterly beneath contempt.
It's been an interesting 16 months, that's for sure.
Since Mike's truck left, Galina and I have moved most of the books and some other items out of the basement and into the garage, to be sorted. The local library is holding a fund-raising sale later this month, and I plan to donate scads of books. Some that aren't quite donatable (my late mother's books on various aspects of Russian literature) I will try to rid myself of via my network of Russian translator acquaintances.
It's quiet, and I must make sure I do not fall into any kind of pensive state in which I think about the past. The past is a done thing, unchangeable. And not worth dwelling upon.
Cheers...
