Turns out I'm covered in last summer
I came home and said, "I hate looking at apartments. It makes me feel too poor and ill and fragile and disabled to be allowed to live independently. If I really cannot survive without such delicate accommodation, I should be wealthy enough to afford it. Since I am not wealthy, I should be institutionalized, or perhaps euthanized. This is terrible." I have not really managed to feel better since, I've just spent more time with cats. In all fairness, the cats are very good.
I remember much less than I would like of the '70's-ish television adaptation of a famous novel from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction which I dreamed in the couple of hours I was asleep this morning. It was delightful. There was a mysteriously deserted train rattling through night-lit tunnels and summer fields and a cat-and-mouse sequence in a greenhouse and a leading man who was almost Iain Cuthbertson, an erudite gentleman of fortune with whom the heroine did not make a romantic match in an understandable but wistful near-miss, leaving him to exit the scene with a hat-tip of mournful, self-mocking irony, calling back to their earlier collaboration on the train as he acknowledged her assessment of their chances as a couple: "The remark of a gambling man . . ." I had not yet read the novel, but it had been reprinted as one of the British Library Crime Classics. Because it was a dream and not really an artifact of ITV discovered on YouTube, my niece was featuring as the heroine's niece. She looked very nice c. 1975's idea of 1935.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch took a picture of me and Autolycus, minus book this time.
I remember much less than I would like of the '70's-ish television adaptation of a famous novel from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction which I dreamed in the couple of hours I was asleep this morning. It was delightful. There was a mysteriously deserted train rattling through night-lit tunnels and summer fields and a cat-and-mouse sequence in a greenhouse and a leading man who was almost Iain Cuthbertson, an erudite gentleman of fortune with whom the heroine did not make a romantic match in an understandable but wistful near-miss, leaving him to exit the scene with a hat-tip of mournful, self-mocking irony, calling back to their earlier collaboration on the train as he acknowledged her assessment of their chances as a couple: "The remark of a gambling man . . ." I had not yet read the novel, but it had been reprinted as one of the British Library Crime Classics. Because it was a dream and not really an artifact of ITV discovered on YouTube, my niece was featuring as the heroine's niece. She looked very nice c. 1975's idea of 1935.
spatch took a picture of me and Autolycus, minus book this time.
no subject
I'm so sorry about the house-hunting. It's had that effect on me too, previously. Seeing it make other people feel that way makes me furious.
no subject
I love his little raccoon face in the shadow.
I'm so sorry about the house-hunting. It's had that effect on me too, previously. Seeing it make other people feel that way makes me furious.
*hugs*
no subject
no subject
*hugs*
no subject
no subject
Thank you. It should not be this worst for anyone.
no subject
no subject
The local housing crisis is so bad that relatives from the other side of the country are sending my parents articles about it. I hate being a statistic!
no subject
no subject
The minute an agent jokes about remembering me from seven years ago because my environmental requirements were so idiosyncratic (my environmental requirements: hardwood floors and public transit nearby), I get the picture I appear too much of a medically fragile chihuahua to make an effort for. The experience only improves from there.
no subject
That seems especially unfair given your general region. *hugs*
I grew up where older buildings were ripped out regularly just so that people could put in buildings with carpet from the get-go, but LA/OC was a bit peculiar that way. Wooden (or once, plastic) flooring is awesome, though I hadn't actually met any till I left for undergrad.
no subject
*hugs*
I mean, our public transit has become legendarily derelict lately, but it's the principle of the thing.
We had a boom in wall-to-wall here, too, but in recent years it has been reversing, which I find interesting. We have encountered multiple apartments where an attraction is the removal of the carpet.
no subject
no subject
Autolycus has a raccoonlike inquisitiveness in this photo.
I bet your niece appreciates starring in your dream life.
no subject
*hugs*
I just feel it is not necessary for it to be this hard. In the summer of 2016, it was stressful enough, but it was not this hard.
Autolycus has a raccoonlike inquisitiveness in this photo.
He really does. It's his tanuki face.
I bet your niece appreciates starring in your dream life.
I will have to make sure to tell her!
no subject
no subject
Thank you.
no subject
I am sorry about the apartment hunting.
no subject
I became really fond of Almost Iain Cuthbertson.
I am sorry about the apartment hunting.
Thank you.
no subject
no subject
*hugs*
Sending strength
I have known that Since I am not wealthy, I should be institutionalized, or perhaps euthanized feeling as well. It's mean, cruel, and inaccurate, but unfortunately reason has never managed to move my feelings into a better place. Just in case it works on you: that shitty feeling they induced in you is cruel and inaccurate.
Re: Sending strength
Thank you. Objectively I know it is, but I still hate being made to feel it.
*hugs*
no subject
*hugs*
Nine
no subject
There's a hell of a universe next door.
*hugs*