I'm going over to the house to spend the night tonight. Maybe I'll make some phone calls tonight, and then do the maintenance stuff (dump the furnace, clean the chimney, and water the plants) in the morning. Then I'll run a very late Christmas package down to the post office. Won't begin undecorating for a while yet.
Tomorrow should be the last day of my vacation, but there's a chance that work will be cancelled for Sunday. In which case I will be, once again, eligible for unemployment. Or at least, eligible to open a claim for unemployment.
Got a call from someone who read my Al Scaduto letter in the paper and wants to chat. Maybe he's a fan who wants to know how I got the inside scoop on Mr. Scaduto's death when it was being thoroughly not reported by the mainstream media. Maybe he's some kinda nut. Either way, I've got his number, so I should call him back.
The narcissistic primarily autobiographical blog of the pseudonymous d.b. echo
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