Letters, I Get Letters

From our apartment complex management:

Needless to say, my building is neither 4, 10 nor 13.  And forget water.

On a related note:  we had movers come and shift all our possessions into the (one-car) garage on Saturday.  It took a depressingly short time, and there’s still plenty of space.  Now building management can dry the place out and replace carpets etc. , which they assured me [eyecross]  would take place soon.

But as I paid the movers with some of the money y’all sent to me, I said a quiet thank-you.  (And yes, I will eventually get it back from the insurance, but I needed it right then, and you guys made it possible.)

Best news of all:  my books were in perfect shape, untouched by the water and the resulting humidity.

And in other news:  normal blogging service should resume tomorrow with the usual mixture of guns,  rants, booze, invective and boobs.  Try to contain your excitement.


  1. Glad to hear about your books, since we all know how they mean to you. If you want to enhance your collection when you move back in, say the word, I’ll send some schekels.

  2. Move to Texas, they said. Nothing ever happens in Texas, they said. You’ll be as safe as a cow on a cow-colored street.

    Well, glad to hear you and the missus are safe and will recover from your losses.

      1. Please be careful … walking about.
        Sounds like the writer was raised on King Ranch or some other Commonwealth land.

    1. Reading it made me twitch violently, but I write for a living, so I tend to be more sensitive to such things. The problem isn’t grammar so much as the author’s complete ignorance of how punctuation works. Commas, in particular. Almost every comma in the entire letter is wrong.

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