May 30, 2011
Flying books at ugly hours.

My brother continues to be strange and confusing. He decided that he needed to ransack my books for something that he refuses to tell me. If the very loud cursing at an unholy hour of the morning was any proof, he didn’t find it. He spent most of today either not here, but not with the car, or in the kitchen, reading the newspaper. I really hope that this sudden interest in the classifieds means that he’s finally finding either a job, or another flatmate, or both. I don’t want my own flesh and blood to live in his car, but there comes a point beyond which any sane person loses their patience. 

Andrew called today, with his normal questions of whether or not I actually would ever like to see the rest of the money for the writing. I might have responded with some slightly less than cordial language. I know what deadlines are, and I know when they are. I even know that I’m held accountable for them! I don’t know what he hopes to accomplish. I don’t even have to write for him. The only reason I haven’t thrown my hands up in despair is because I am too stubborn to give in.

(Later)

The odd things that have happened this week keep piling up. I set down my computer, meaning to come back and finish this entry, and realized that there was a note sitting on my kitchen table. I hadn’t heard my brother leave, but I can get a little caught up in my work and not actually pay attention to what’s going on. It was a simple folded note, on plain paper, with my name written in script on the top. I had been hoping it was a note from my brother, informing me of his decision to move out, but it was nothing that nice. In fact, if I didn’t know my brother’s handwriting like my own, I would say it was from him, hoping to annoy me. 

The note simply said 32 hours. Buy a lockbox. I have no idea why my brother, or an associate of his, would be offering me this advice. 

I’ve decided to leave it be. If the message is meant for him, but I’m the name on the rent agreement, then he should see it. That is, if he even comes back. 

It’s time for a cup of tea and another late night.

  1. theknifeandpen posted this