January 20, 2016

So, we make a date to sign the papers for the sale of 62, and W phones, and I can say the words along with him, “Oh, I forgot that I had to–“ So we postpone. And the snow comes and we postpone again, though all one of us has to do is walk across the street. Has something has happened to the house that he doesn’t want me to see? I quell my rage because each time this happens it seems so small, but the cumulative effect of its happening a dozen or so times means rage in any case, quelled or pure. The world is divided between those people who set a date and, often to their own detriment or inconvenience, then do everything they can to meet that date, and those who shrug such things off as though their own convenience were the only thing.  People who think thoughtlessness is an actual argument. I have given him every advantage, including tens of thousands of dollars, saved him from being turned down by every mortgage firm in the world, allowed him to buy a house, allowed him his way with a house he doesn’t own. The only thing I asked for myself is that we sign the papers quickly and have it done with. That was February, 2014