Things were looking up for a minute there. It was a good weekend, I got lots of sleep. I made an appointment for someone to come finish my bathroom floor Wednesday morning. (they'd better fucking show up) I went and bought lots of happy, clothes and a wine rack. All kinds of shit, crazy on sale. All over the neighborhood.
So yeah, I thought things might be on an upswing, I thought my mood might be about to improve, then I got a phone call last night informing me that the bicycle I left in New Orleans had been stolen.
I LOVED that fucking bicycle. We went everywhere together. FUUUCK.
This is the only picture I have. I took it with my phone when I brought it home:
Now I have no fucking transportation when I visit. Fantastic. This is getting better and better.
It's quite a feeling, being fucked over in absentia. I wasn't in the same zip-code, wasn't even in the same TIME ZONE. And still?
I don't even know what else to say anymore.