Today I went to Starbuck's with a friend. While walking out to our cars after a delightful cup o' joe, my friend and I were talking about houses and B's uncertainty with his job. I essentially said that I didn't know what would happen with his job, in terms of his total satisfaction. She said I needed a sign, like a bird crapping on me, as happened in the book "Under the Tuscan Sun," which I have never read. I supposed she was right, but dismissed the notion, thinking that I was fine with renting for a while as we figured everything out.
I got home and B and I went on a walk. When we came back from our walk, B was laid out on the sofa, and he sat there in silence for a while. Then he asked, "What do you think we'll do about a house?" I responded, "I have NO idea..." and I went on to explain my hesitation toward making any decisive move. So we continued to talk about other things as we ate dinner and I came in the office to check my e-mail.
In my inbox sat an e-mail from our landlord who was actually renting out his unit without the condo association's permission (which was discovered after a window was broken by the landscaping company who eventually denied responsibility for the window--they asserted it was broken by an invisible golf ball). According to this little e-mail, the condo association has denied our landlord the right to extend our lease beyond the lease expiration of September 19th.
Splat goes the birdcrap on my head.
And it all started with a broken window on a sunny day while I laid in bed sick with the flu.
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