mourning

[threeplusfire]

Insidious creeping mold in the walls of the old apartment managed to sneak under my bookshelf. On the lowest level, there isn't any wood backboard. All my Edith Wharton, my Robert Anton Wilson, my copy of The Once and Future King, my collections of fairytales, old and new, and my lesbian vampire erotica book have all been destroyed. I'm heartbroken.

Oh god.
How could this happen?
Well it's rather obvious isn't it?
I knew we had mold in the closet, but they cleaned it out.
You shouldn't trust other people to do a proper job of something important.
I know I know. Shut up.

Comments

[reive.livejournal.com]

I told you. He's like cats.

When I lived in Washington, my apartment had this huge walkin closet/dressing room, that youhad to go through to get to the bathroom. It was cool, and had built in shelving and everything. It was a compulsive's dream.

Why can't you have an apartment like that now?
Because I live in New York, dipshit.
Oh. No need to be rude.

Re:

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Sounds like my closet. It's so big. I think I might have to buy more shoes, so it won't look so empty.

And yes, cats. Indeed.