Best Served Cold

You know that first scene in The Matrix where Trinity is fighting and running and fighting and running. Then she lands on the ground but she can’t get up, and she tells herself “Come on, Trinity, GET UP!” And then she gets up, escapes to the phone booth, and outwits the bad men once again.

Well, I’m not having quite as dramatic an experience as that, but at some point yesterday I had to tell myself to get up; it’s not that bad. I just have a stalker neighbor living below me who has fits of rage and mental instability every month. I can’t a get a Personal Protection Order since it’s a non-domestic. It’s basically two neighbors who don’t get along, and who has time for that shit when, legitimately, there are thousands of women getting killed by boyfriends and husbands? The police said that if he didn’t threaten my life there’s not much they can do. The idiot has been told by police and the HOA president to stay away from me and my property and do not attempt contact. Any issues with leaks or damages are sent via email to the HOA. Sigh. There is a chance I might catch him on camera on my patio; then I can throw him in jail for reals. It’s worth a try.

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I met with my dissertation advisor. We’re tentatively looking at a defense date sometime in October or November. I have to finish this last chapter, so I will be working on it while I’m in Chicago this weekend. I leave tomorrow afternoon. I plan on having dinner at Morton’s steakhouse, getting cheesecakes for my family from the Cheesecake Factory, and taking some pictures and video. And a spa day. Can’t forget that.

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Alcoholic cider is dangerous stuff. I was meeting with the architect of my new house and had tried a cider at the pub. I got home at noon, crashed on the bed, and didn’t get until 6:30 p.m. wtf. I didn’t know I was that much of a lightweight. And I only drank half a glass.

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lates