It's been a good week.
I finished work on the cookbook I've been doing for the past six months. (That's where I've been.) I'll have to see how much I'm allowed to say about that, because I would love to explain the process of designing a cookbook, why it was the batshit craziest amount of work I've ever agreed to and why I went nearly half a year past deadline.
In the midst of finishing up the book, I picked a good week to jump into the stock market. This was Monday, mind you, and I'm thinking that the market's already crashed so this would be a good time to jump in. Then five consecutive days of crashing and I get out $350 down. In the scheme of things, I'm insanely lucky for being so insanely stupid. It was Sirius XM Satellite Radio stock and I'll probably jump right back on that shit on Monday if I have another stupid streak. Sirius is trading for around 40 cents a share right now if you have the balls to sit and watch your money slowly disappear until the world can either fix itself or crumble back to sea shell currency. They have the second most subscribers of any entertainment service in the country, right behind Comcast cable, yet they're still completely in the dumps.
This was also the week that I called the police for the first time. Coincidentally, it was also the first week that Elise and I stood behind two police officers as they pushed into the apartment across from us with two guns drawn. The abandoned apartment's door was open two inches, despite being vacant and foreclosed upon (gee, I wonder if it was a good week to jump into the stock market?) for over a year. In the end, there was no sign that anyone had ever been inside. But it was cool nonetheless. I found it strange that the police officer let us stand right out in the open even though it was a situation that required them to draw guns. We just stood there, five feet away, watching. They drew their guns and raised them to the open door, then one of them said, "Did you hear that OJ was found guilty?" Then they lowered their guns and spoke about OJ for a minute. Then they raised their guns and someone came over the walkie talkie, "Did you hear about OJ?" Then they lowered their guns again and told the person on the walkie talkie that they had to do a search.
Later that night, one of the stray cats outside was jumping up and grabbing that apartment's doorknob. Batting at it. Grabbing it. The stray cat most definitely opened the door.
