This whole homeowner thing is starting to get a little too real. I'm not talking about the 15 packed boxes and the three milk crates (stolen! sshhhh!!) sitting around my apartment, making this place seem less like home. Noooo, I'm talking about the call that was waiting for me on the answering machine when I got home from work today.

The call was from the Assistant of Mort the Lawyer. I think her name is Barbara. She called to tell me the time, date and place of closing. May 29th, 1pm. I haven't even written down the information - that would be TOO real. Especially real is the part of the message where she tells me that she'll be calling me again on May 28th to tell me the amount of the cashiers check I'll need to bring with me. That just sends shivers down my spine.

My answer to this was to turn around and sprint out the door to run some errands, and then go buy dinner, rather than to attempt to cook. I needed onion rings. I haven't eaten onion rings in a very, very long time, and I really just had the need. I had this treat with a grilled veggie burger with grilled onions and mushrooms. Mmmmm! But now I remember why I don't eat stuff like this anymore. Three hours after dinner, all that greasy food is sitting there like an enormous lump in my stomach.

The search for someone to take my apartment hasn't yielded any takers. I wonder if I need to go and buy some kind of chain to hang this financial albatross around my neck, or do they come with nooses of their own?

In other news, I saw the strangest bumper sticker today on a car that must have belonged to a masochist. It said: Hung like Einstein, Brains of a Horse.