Picture of my father and Shannon as they were dropping me off at Jacksonville International Airport for my flight back home to Washington, D.C., August 29, 2019
OK, this is the second entry I wanted to post -- which I am keeping separate from the first one to avoid a weird juxtaposition of topics.
Apologies for lack of any entries since the wee hours of Friday morning. As for wee hours, they don't get any more wee, I suppose, than the 4:30 a.m. hour, which is the present time as I start this entry.
I'm writing it because I'm awake and can't quite get to sleep. I actually went to bed around 10 p.m., which is good for me, and now I'm up. My fan is whirling away and my window a/c is purring.
There are two unpleasant pieces of news I need to relate in this entry -- one sad and another just bad for me, and neither of which I want to delve into right now, and instead will just note them.
The sad news last week (possibly on Wed., Jan 8th), my father's long-time, on-again/off-again companion and friend, Shannon Price, passed away at her father's home in Lakeland, Florida. I'll have more to say on this in a subsequent entry.
I just want to say that I deeply regret the fact I rejected her in my life for so many years, and that I am happy that was able to become friends with her on that otherwise-ill-advised August trip to Florida to visit my dad.
Also, I have to say that Shannon had a terrible life -- things relentlessly going so badly for her at every turn and people (myself included) unfairly taking a disliking to her when she did nothing wrong.
Indeed, she was a fundamentally decent person, and never got cut a break.
I'm sorry, Shannon.
Again, I'll have more to say on this. Shannon and her memory deserve a more proper entry.
Secondly, this building has, indeed, taken that preliminary step of trying to evict me with the "cure or quit" letter as a result of the Dec 20th incident. Having read the letter, I certainly sound like a monster, and, honestly, if I were Wm C. Smith, I'd probably do the same thing.
At this point, I intend to move out of here (i.e., "quit" before any formal case is brought in D.C. court), but that's a whole big effort of finding some other reasonable place here in D.C. given a bunch of constraints.
I need to talk to my attorney this week.
The issue is how WCS will follow up on this action after the thirty-day period -- and that's where I don't know what will happen since it can make up any allegations against me with very little proof, and then use the Dec 20th incident against me as its actual case with all the potential ramifications for trying to find a new place to live (my 15 year good rent history down the proverbial drain).
Honestly, at this point, I just don't understand how I have such endless conflict the world in such weird and ugly ways. Yes, I know I realize this is my fault, and I can't quite seem to slay whatever demon is inside of me, but I also sometimes feel like I am somehow placed in farcical situations that can only have bad endings.
OK, that's all I want to say now. I'm going to back to bed for several hours. Maybe I'll get some good REM dream state adventures.