200th post

The sad thing about this being the 200th post is that I'm now realizing had I spent all this time writing fiction I'd pretty much have a novel by now.
The head of the Restart program came by yesterday to inform me that he would probably be moving Jerry to the afternoon class. He said he was having chemistry issues in the classes and needed to make some changes. He informed me I'd likely be getting a new slave next week. I think he said this one might be a girl. I'd feel really bad bossing a girl around.
I felt bad for George today. Rent was due yesterday, but he hadn't paid yet. When I asked him about it, he tried to pay in cash. I told him once again (this has happened a few times) that I can only take checks or money orders. I said it would be alright as long as he managed to get me a money order tomorrow. I guess he found a ride today though because he came into my office about an hour later with his money order. Except he reversed two of the numbers on the money order, so he was $18 short. "Oh, @#$%," was his response as he drooled all over my desk. I just asked him if he had twenty bucks, which he did. So I took it, gave him his change, and will just deposit the cash and the money order at the same time. The biggest thing is that I have a money order I can photocopy for our records.
Bonnie is officially giving up her apartment. She is going to stay in Florida with her daughter and receive her cancer treatment there.
One of Bonnie's daughters had been "house-sitting" for her mother (and by "house-sitting" of course I mean "squatting"). I was assured that the apartment would be vacated and cleaned three weeks ago. It wasn't. I called the daughter in Florida (with whom I had been dealing), and I informed her that it wasn't vacated. She assured me that it should have been and that anything left there was from some unknown vagrant. I didn't really believe this, but all I could do was clean out the apartment myself. She also told me that she had no idea where the keys to the apartment were.
I went into the apartment on Monday to have a look around before I sent Jerry in to start working on emptying it out. It's a good thing I did because in the bathroom, I found my first copy of Penthouse, all wrinkled and crusty and gross. I didn't want to touch the thing, but not only would it have been wrong for me to have Jerry be the one to get rid of it, it would have been illegal. After I got rid of the magazine, I examined the rest of the apartment to make sure there were no more surprises waiting for Jerry. Together, we ended up hauling out almost a dumpster full of garbage. The stuff was already in bags, but it would seem that once they bagged up the garbage they were just storing it in the closet.
The kicker of all of this is that on Tuesday Jerry and I went back into haul out the furniture that had been left behind, only to find that everything else was gone, and someone had left the keys on the kitchen counter.
I made "chocolate lava muffins" tonight. They were pretty chocolaty, even if they weren't particularly lava-ey. I don't know if they turned out the way they were supposed to or not, since I had never actually had them and was just going by a recipe. Anna liked them though.
Anna found a recipe for a banana milk drink the other day. She thought it looked good. I thought it sounded like the most disgusting thing ever. I made her some. She liked it. I was grateful I didn't have to try any.
Spring Training brings joy to my soul. Everyone seems to think the Rockies will be contenders this year. I prefer to start the season assuming that they will suck and waiting to be proven wrong.
My brother has an eye infection that hurts enough for the doctors to prescribe him vicodin. This seems very much like overkill to me. Are doctors prescription happy or what?
To keep Daisy from chewing up our shoes, Anna and I have been scattering handfuls of rawhide strips at a time around the apartment. She goes crazy if she doesn't have those things. I think I might have to start investing in whatever company makes them. I have a feeling we are going to spend a fortune on those things before all is said and done.
Blue boxers.
There are certain things that go wrong around the apartment that make me feel stupid when I can't fix them then call someone in to fix them and see how easy it really was. Yesterday is a perfect example. Bobbie's kitchen sink (garbage disposal side) was clogged. I tested the garbage disposal and could tell it worked. I poured a whole bunch of drain cleaner done the drain, but that did absolutely nothing. The drain didn't drain at all. Everything just sat there. I got out a plunger and tried to plunge it. Nothing. So I called the plumber. When he came, he looked at the problem and said, "this will be easy." He then asked for a plunger. I gave him the plunger. He turned on the garbage disposal and plunged. It cleared right up. How was I to know that having the disposal on while I plunged would help?
Beulah was in the office to pay her rent the other day, and she asked "How's your wife?" I replied, "Well, she's got a pretty bad cold." "That's good."