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2006-06-22 - 2:53 p.m. The right tools for the job Charlie Dorr, Jr., the Dead Slumlord's very polite son, came by Tuesday, tore up the floor, the caved-in concrete slabs, and left the stinky waste drainage pipes and rotted wood exposed in the gaping hole that used to be my bathroom floor, and then deposited the ripped-out commode in the middle of my kitchen, until he "figures out what to do". He put in about an hour and a half. He inspired little confidence, showing up with these tools: 1) a hammer, and 2)a flashlight. It's frickin' MAJOR STRUCTURAL damage! An actual plumber and building contractor would be a THOUGHT! Then he said he nearly passed out from the fumes from the combination of the open waste pipe, and the boiler starting up below, and raised himself up from the hole, sweating, saying he would come back another time. And when I commented, "I just don't know how you're going to do this, Charlie," he answered, "Neither do I, neither do I." So, I continue to have to climb a stool, turn around, and lower my butt over to pee in the sink, or put on all my clothes in the dead of night to go up one floor to the abandoned apartment (with a flashlight; there is no electric up there) to go the other way. Thank gawd I'm not the kind to throw dinner parties or entertain royalty! My long-time bf is still leaving for Canada, soon, like the start of next week. I'm so wanting to be the very magnanimous girlfriend. But I feel bitterness creeping in. For all the years I've been by his side we've always equally paid our own way - dinners, museums, other entertainment. So I'm beginning not to care how he perceives it any longer - to me, he's gone back to 'keeping' a man in Canada. He's already sent him money. He then asked him to help him unpack when he arrives in Canada, and this so-called grown man and 'friend' told him first he couldn't because he'd be 'on vacation' (he doesn't have a job and either lives on the street or off his mother) then admitted he'd be too busy getting stoned to help him. My bf says he will let him bilk him out of $200 as a limit "just to see what he will do". This man needs more money now to buy a metal detector to search for the implants inside his head, which, my unusually intelligent bf seems to find, both compelling and amusing. Where does he see even the slightest bit of entertainment value or 'friend' in this loser? You can't live anybody else's life, or think you can tell them what to do. I'm aware of that. For myself, though, I'm beginning to question what I want after this move to Canada. And that scares me. There's a sinus infection in my head, and one ear has closed up, so I am grouchy and stressed with both the above more than usual, I suppose.