My work in slowly copying Misery's file dragged on today, though I entertained myself by reading through parts of it. Misery had been in contact with numerous priests and churches with unclear aims, and one badass priest wrote a letter to our office detailing his thoughts on her communications. Below is a large portion of his letter:
"Ms. [redacted]'s communication with me is assertive, rambling and incoherent. The main theme of her need to communicate with me concerns the Second Coming of Christ and some instructions she has received. As a follower of Jesus Christ I share Ms. [redacted]'s belief in the Second Coming. However, where we differ is in her belief that God has given her special instructions about Christ's coming. Scripture teaches Christ-followers that neither the angels nor Jesus know when the Second Coming will happen, only God the Father. (See the Gospel of Matthew 24:30-36) Based on the authority of scripture Ms. [redacted]'s claims have no merit."
He proceeded to state that he believed Misery was in need of medical and psychological help, but probably not before running outside to execute a slam dunk. I like to see fur fly in debates of logic with regard to theological principles. Also, a letter from Misery's estranged husband lent some perspective on how crazy she is; the guy is a convicted felon, currently in prison, and says he would never wish her on anyone and that she is the most poisonous person he's ever met. I went to court by myself and sat around waiting for a chance to talk to the clerk (the chance never came.) During this time, I watched a big legal fight over a Legal Seafood liquor license and a son translating the judge's questions for his Spanish-speaking mother. Eventually, I just went back to the office and called the clerk, who answered in an almost comical stage whisper. Lots of tasks piled up right at the end of the day, which was mildly stressful but also made it go rather quickly.
After leaving a long message for our property manager, I took an obscenely long nap, then got up and cleaned everything. I relaxed in the library later in the night, and headed for home around 4 a.m. This led to a unique encounter at the turnoff onto our "backyard" on Coventry; as I was walking down that street in the direction of Tremont, a sketchy-looking dude turned on to Coventry going the opposite direction (big saggy t-shirt, baggy jeans, snapback, etc.) I thought little of it until I turned to go to my door and he turned immediately thereafter. I had never seen this person back there before and there are only three or four apartments accessible from there, so my first thought was of a mugger. My door is all the way at the end, and when I reached it he was still walking a few feet behind me. At this point, my fight-or-flight response was in full gear, and I have to say I wasn't scared. I figured that a) he looked pretty doughy, b) I'm reasonably fit, and c) I'm Irish and fighting runs in my blood. If he really was a mugger, I expected him to come at me while I was unlocking the door, so that was a tense moment. It turned out that he was the maintenance guy who takes out the trash bins (and apparently has no dress code whatsoever.) Thank goodness. Also, an unrelated aside: Alaric and I discovered that Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" is an incredible drinking song. FYI.
Quotes of the day:
"Find the right fool. Find the right method. Match the method to the fool." - Alaric, on fools and their money
"A food as opposed to B food and C food. I'd rather C food than B food." - Sean
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