I hate limbo. It is the least excellent place-that-is-also-a-dance to be.

We don’t know anything about the Real Boy Status Change except that we probably want to wear pants to hide our shame on June 1st. I am rocking the boat as hard as ever; naively and unreliably demanding to know things that directly affect my personal well-being before I sign anything that might be coming my way. I hate being taken advantage of; almost as much as I hate it when things disappear from my desk.

As some of you might have gleaned from our trip to the island, my mother has sold the house. She got a pretty good price for it, given that the house is a piece of crap. She has to be out by July 31st, so we’re looking for an apartment for her for July 1st to give a month to move things back and forth. She’s leaving the majority of the (old and hideous) furniture behind; a trip to the Brick introduced her to the joys of a new bed and furniture that was created after WWII. Once she finds a place I’ll probably be taking a week off (with pay? who knows!) to help her pack, move, unpack and get settled. As long as I can keep up the dutiful daughter act, perhaps she’ll be more inclined to give me some of the house money – that would be just lovely, given my soul-crushing debt and continual need for both ale and whores.

I hope everything changes for the better, but right now I simply do not know. The unknown is making my life very stressful and cranky, and you would not believe the size of the ass marbles.