Digging holes at home, digging holes at work, it's all the same. Can life get any saltier?



Miss Sof swung by yesterday, a whirlwind of heady and girly laughs. Her life stories full of flirtation and exploits. C got quite miffed because I sent him away so I could hear her stories in full detail and glory- some seduction involving drugs and coworkers, blue eyed asiophiles, fellow named Jesus at Burning Man. She said "I can play with the players now." I could see hearts and roses coming out of her conversation. Nothing but manacles, rats, and moldy bread on my end.



Big J has unearthed more revelatory dirt about her crooked contractor Mark. He had left her in the lurch with an unfinished kitchen and unpaid electricians; his checks to the cabinet makers bounced. Last week, he was known to be an adulterer who left his first wife to marry his mistress who was then pregnant. Of course the cheater is cheated as it turned out it was not his child. He is duly reviled by his birth children. Then this morning, it was further revealed that he had a third wife, Mark scammed her of her divorce settlement money from her more upright ex-husband. Furthermore, he has scammed a whole slew of clients of 200k and has fled the country. J thought she was the only one holding the bag, but there apparently is an exceedingly long line. Lucky for J she has lost only some ducats and sleepless nights.



In the front garden, there plays a red tailed squirrel who likes to look at the back of my head while munching on my nuts off the dogwood tree. I'll walk about testing my hypothesis, and he'll scamper up the tree accordingly so he can hit me with the crumbs all the while snacking away nut after nut. What a rat! But a really cute one so I'll let him go this time.



Mystery of mysteries, Douglas Supreme, C's agent, has sent in a paycheck without the requisite badgering phone calls. It's true.