this week

Sunday: I decide that since I’m gonna be selling stuff at Norwescon at the end of the week, I want to take it easy this coming week. Also there is D&D and our comedically bad decisions may result in giving the Big Bad exactly what she wants. Also I discover that my Tarot deck has now entered the levels of out-of-printness where the only people offering it for sale are pricing it in the low three digits, and begin getting things together for possibly Kickstarting a second printing. When I throw together a first draft of the pitch, I take out the deck to ask it which ones I should use in the pitch; the 10 and 99 of swords leap out while I’m shuffling before I even ask.

Monday: The landlord wakes me up around 7am. I have somehow managed to forget to pay rent since last July, and he has only just now noticed this. In looking into how this happens, it turns out I have managed to stop paying my rent for an entire year. I send him email informing him of this. He used to notice within a week if I missed a payment; I wonder what’s made his 2017/18 so chaotic?

Tuesday: I come home in the evening to find water on the kitchen floor. It seems to be coming from below the counter and stove. I write what is probably the most awkwardly-timed maintenance request ever to the landlord. I also fire off an email to the investment counselor at my bank, briefly describing the rent situation and my need to withdraw money from my investments to cover this ASAP. I update the landlord on this. Also my regular D&D game nearly falls apart. Also after I get back from the grocery store later in the day I note that the two rotted-out loafers which mysteriously appeared on the sidewalk outside the apartment last Friday have been meticulously placed at the corners of the yard. The inner Magician feels this is, at the very least, some very bad feng shui if not outright Bad Mojo; I put them in the neighbor’s dumpster.

Wednesday: There are moist spots in the carpet near the kitchen that do not correspond to the new wet spot on the ceiling. I drop a message in the bank’s general communication system asking them to either poke my investment counselor about this or get me someone else who can deal with this. In the afternoon he replies and wants to talk about it on the phone. I say okay sure whatever, call me.

Thursday: Nick and I rent a car and go down to the airport hotel Norwescon is at. I set up and start selling. While browsing the net to kill time (it’s slow, as expected for the first day of a four-day con), I get multiple people pointing me to an exposé on John Krickfalusi’s propensity to have sex with underage girls. Most of which happened while I was working at his studio. I now want to take out the part of my brain that learnt important things about drawing from him and wash it. Processing this is definitely not a thing that helps my performance as Con Table Peggy, but a book sells itself anyway. I come home and there is an ultra-short email from the landlord asking what’s up with the money; I tell him I’m playing phone tag with the investment counselor while also trying to honor my commitment to deal at this convention. I also drop some email to said investment counselor saying, you know what, how about we do this via email, I am stuck at a con all day and really can’t do phone stuff. I wonder why it seems to be suddenly very urgent that I get this money to my landlord by the beginning of the month when he could ignore it for a whole year.

Also there are still many moistnesses around the kitchen floor.

Friday: I guess I get up and go deal stuff at the con and maybe I sell a bunch of books and am happy? Maybe I exchange email with the investment counselor and can give the landlord an ETA for when the money’s in my account so he’ll relax?

Saturday, Sunday: see Friday

I really hope next week is TOTALLY FUCKING BORING.


I may have a post soon about the John K thing as well, I made some lengthy toots as part of initially processing it. It’s like everyone who worked there had this secret they were kinda carrying around, that we could never actually say out loud (though we would certainly all obliquely hint at it when he came up in conversation), and now we can finally say it…

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