I made a special trip to my old Jersey City apartment today after work so that this woman and her husband could come by at 6 pm to look at the one piece of furniture I hadn’t yet sold. It was a buffet cabinet that used to be in my parents’ house, the only me-related object left in the apartment. (The renovators have already begun painting the walls, and there are paint cans and drop cloths everywhere.) By 6:45 the woman and her husband still hadn’t shown up, and numerous attempts to call her had given me her voicemail. I left one message at 6:15, and at 6:45 I left a second message to tell her I was leaving.

I’ve been feeling all complainy today. I didn’t sleep well last night, part of my fingertip is slightly numb, and I’ve had an intermittent sore throat for the past three weeks, probably a sign that the air-conditioner filters in the new apartment need to be changed. On top of that, this woman wasted an hour and a half of my time this evening, taking into account transit.

She now goes on my double super-secret shit list.