I got home today to find an email from the Estate Agent saying I had passed my credit check. The flat in Earls Barton is mine! What a relief. Now I can sit back and relax for a while, stop buying the newspaper to scour the property to let pages, stop calling in at Estate Agents in town to pick up lettings lists, stop making phone calls to arrange viewings, stop going to viewings, stop entertaining nightmare fantasies in which everything goes wrong and the bottom falls out of my world, leaving me homeless, sleeping in shop doorways.
You can call me neurotic, but for the last month every time I've passed the homeless guy who sleeps on the town square I've felt like he was keeping the spot warm for me.
6 comments:
there is a poem in the last sentence, bruce
glad to hear you have a place -
Good work, Bruce.
You should make a poem out of that last paragraoh you just wrote. Or maybe from the whole entry.
Just saw that Tom said the same thing!!
hey, glenn
are you the glenn who posts on androla's board?
and Bruce, i still think there is a poem there
yes, Tom, I am. Small (press) world, huh? :)
Guys,
Well, I'm thrilled you responded so well to the writing in that post, since the writing is really what it's all about.
The last line is a paraphrase of something from somewhere, and I can't remember where. All I had stuck in my head was the rhythm and the idea, and the vague knowledge that both were the property of another writer. If anybody can tell me which writer I'd be glad to know.
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