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Thursday, April 14, 2011

Thirty -first day of Lent: Make me an offer


4/13
A pretty messy day. Long matches and a urine smell,( sigh) you need some clorox here says the UPS delivery woman. And I will never understand where surgical gloves come from and why. 
I come to the church to meet Hope to go through archival material with  Norm tomorrow. Spent all morning being deposed over a fall down sidewalk case from 2007.    Four attorneys, four hours. The most painful part is having to go through the whole failed history  of the  development project with Richman. In aching detail. 
I am exhausted in every way. Hope isn’t coming. While sweeping, I see an orthodox man, hat, beard and all...checking out the church very closely. He’s talking on the  cell phone. I hear him give the church number.  Read off the old list of programs. What’s up with this?
I try to catch his eye.  He’s preoccupied with his cell phone.  He looks at me. Assumes I’m a schlemiel, or at best a shammus.  Goes right on by as if I’m not there.     
I search here and there for items I remember and haven’t been able to find. Not since the water damage. .  But there is so much.  So much more. Overwhelming.  All the boxes, all the stuff flows over me like a busted water pipe.
When  Hope calls to say she can’t come,  I breathe a sign of relief. But while I’m locking up, a phone call. Do I want to sell the church?   His Italian client doesn’t want to say what he wants. But if the church wanted to stay there and worship, well, hey, no big deal.   Could be...   
Thinking about how depressed,  stressed I feel, I want to say yes.  Don’t trust any phone call that starts out in a cheery pseudo familiar how are you  today? But I want to say, so make me an offer....

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