I got an editing job last week. It’s a temporary gig (hopefully one that will lead to other opportunities), where we’re working on publishing eBook versions of old documents and books currently in public domain. For the past two weeks, I’ve been writing and editing short author biographies – which led me to a grand discovery.
Sir Walter Scott, the famed author of Ivanhoe, wrote a work entitled, Tales of My Landlord. I was inspired. I don’t know what his tales were, but I think I’ve found a purpose to my frustration with my apartment’s owner and management. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. Perhaps this is my lucky break. I’m going to write down all my experiences with termites, holes in the kitchen floor, maggoty garbage and security cameras in the backyard, potentially explosive ovens, and a mouse named Charleton Heston. And then I’m going to publish them. And sell them for moneys. And get ridiculously rich and famous. And then I’ll buy everybody nice sweaters, and teach them how to dance.
Friends, if you’re reading this, do not fear. Our landlords are good people. They just forget some stuff. Some entertaining stuff. Landlords, if you’re reading this, will you please ask RC Willey to deliver that oven? Thanks. ♦