Well, that won’t happen.

Remember that bit about my moving soon to a sweet Vacaville condo? Well that isn’t happening anymore. Someone made a better offer while we were racing to the bank to dot the last Is and cross the last Ts. We were too slow.

And it’s looking like the housing market in Vacaville is now unaffordable, which is where said sweetheart’s teen daughter is now going to school. The places currently affordable are only in hives of scum and villainy too wretched for our lifestyle. The rental market in Vacaville has become too expensive as well. She’d stay put except her landlord wants to sell (while the prices are good), and that means she has to move to someplace else in the next three months.


Money experts and real-estate experts say that this is a short-term thing, that soon the Vacaville housing market is going to reverse course and prices will drop. So we’re in limbo again, and I’m staying put in San Francisco.

My headache from last night stuck with me until 5ish today, despite the usual countermeasures. I feel crappy and really not like writing. Certainly not working on the thinky-triggery long thing I was working on yesterday, which I may chop into smaller bits.

I wasn’t here when my sweetheart got the news and she needed me. That feels crappy.

My non-Fitbit activity monitor is congratulating me for how much good sleep I got today. It makes me wonder if the software would see nothing wrong with one of my sleep-all-week spells.

It’s a day of maximum disappointment.


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