Let me clarify.

What I'm looking for is somewhere outside the city limits, but close enough that I can drive to work without wanting to kill myself, and also be close to my family. The whole reason for wanting to move is to avoid having to pay business taxes to the city when I really get my business going. I love the Main Line, and in a perfect world, I'd give my eyeteeth to have a little house somewhere out there. But traffic to the city in the mornings is painfully sucky. Actually, traffic out of the city is painfully sucky, too. Okay, it just generally sucks driving out that way most of the time.

Still, it's a nice area. And perhaps I could finally have space for my roses, and for Clue to bound around a little. I'd freakin' LOVE that, and, of course, so would she. O, for a yard! And while the uncertainty about Faire next year is weighing on me, if I do go back, I'd be closer.

I'd have to stay at or under $900 a month. How painful is this going to be?

Well, let's see now.

I got off the phone a while ago with Norma Pope. She's the Crafts Coordinator for the Georgia Renaissance Festival. I explained to her what's going on with my boots, and she called and left a message for Simon herself. I told her I've called, I've faxed, I've begged, I've pleaded, I've threatened. I told her I've sent people to Simon's booth in New York, and gotten second-hand messages, but no response from him. While at first she said, "Well, he's normally so good!", she did later admit she's heard things like this before about him. I told her I had, too-- but I never thought he'd do this to me. Sigh.

Well, we'll see what happens. She has my number.

Fuck.

My own fucking stupidity knows no fucking bounds.


Sigh.