Anyone else think that this was Sopwith's tactics to get more answers ?
Anyway, you got them, and boy, look at WHO they came from !!
Compared to them, I'm just a needle in a hatrack , but for what I'm worth, you have my thanks for sharing these bits & bytes of your life with us, and yeah, you can go, but when (not if) you come back, just don't be mad if everybody sais: "I told you, you've got Hatrackitis !"
Now, we should all have this much attention paid to us, it is really uplifting. I've had the time to reassess my own policy on posting and I've come to realize, through my own experience just how much we all need each other's support. While I do thank you for yours, understand that it comes with a pledge to do a better job myself in appreciating the wonderful people around me (in the real and electronic worlds).
To answer the question of what happened to the sobbing fellow next door: Well, I did get to learn a bit about him later on. He was a former ambulance driver and EMT who was going through a divorce and had apparently managed to lose his job along the way. He seemed like a nice guy, but had developed one of those nervous skin disorders that makes you scratch constantly.
I moved out of the boarding house about two months after this incident. The landlady, May, passed away and her son took over the place. Within a week, he had raised the rent by an additional $25 a week and honestly I just couldn't pay it.
At the time I was pretty upset that even while working I couldn't afford to live in that down-on-its-luck kinda place, and spent a bit of time living in my car and with friends. That Christmas, at the urging of my father, I did go to visit him in my original hometown. My Dad and grandparents made me an offer on a new start on life and I reluctantly took it.
It turned out to be exactly what I needed. There were some stories of tragedy there as well, but I found what home is really meant to be, and well, I thrived. I'll clue you in more in another 500 posts or so...
Once again, thanks all for salving my injured and childish pride.
P.S. It was my sister who stabbed me with the fork. It caught me in the forearm and I've still got four neat lil round scars from it.
Posts: 2848 | Registered: Feb 2003
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A fork scar has to be the coolest ever. Add me to the Feels Insignificant Club. I keep coming back because I'm a sucker for punishment, and I've never been good at knowing when it's time to shutup and leave.
Anyway, I've noticed your posts in the past in a good way, and I'd have been sorry to see you go as well. I'm glad you're here, and here to stay.
Posts: 1090 | Registered: Oct 2003
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Sopwith, My dad grew up in the era when home heating came through a grid on the floor. He and his sister were dressing, she sad something nasty, and he pushed her. She landed on the grid on her naked bottom. He says he can still here the sssssssss. She is sure she must still have a grid-shaped scar there, but does not dare ask.
Posts: 10890 | Registered: May 2003
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