It's one of those days. It's been one of those weeks. It started out so promisingly! And now. I barely have enough energy to move these fronds at the ends of my torso-extensions on this here letter-tapping board.

Feel free to take a look at some of my Twitter eruptions from night, if you have the time or inclination to make sense of my jabbering. Short version: for the umpteenth time, something violent and horrifying occurred in our building. We called our old buddies, our friendly local police officers, who for the millionth time strolled in and out of the building faster than it could possibly take to glean any information at all.

We've tried to help, to make sense of this place, to see if we can't get some assistance from the landlord or the authorities so we can live safely enough, but it has become imminently clear, if it was not before, that this is not where we should live. This is not a place any sane or reasonable person should live. So I have to add on "find a new apartment" to the already overflowing list of all that there is to do.

All I want to do is go back to bed. But alas, that is not on my list.