Filled with incident

I got a call this morning from the realtor dude in charge of that apartment I fell in love with. The person who got their ap in first has failed to secure financing. Am I still interested in buying the place? AND HOW! I replied. Oh, good, he said, and asked me to bring him a current set of documents. He'll pass it to the city, they'll vet my paperwork, and (hopefully) they'll approve me again. Then we go to his pet loan officer, and (hopefully) she'll approve me for a loan. And then (hopefully) I get to go live in the apartment I fell in love with.

About an hour after that, my boss presented me with my 5-Year Tchotchke: a nice desk clock discreetly emblazoned with the corporate logo. Now that I've gotten my tchotchke home, I find that there's no apparent way to adjust the time. Hm.

My boss also shared the sad news that Alan Spaulding died yesterday at the Chamberlain-Lewis wedding reception. Mr. Spaulding died of complications following a bone-marrow donation to his adopted son, for whom he was a suspiciously close match [insert tawdry speculation about Jackie Marler here]. Mr. Spaulding is survived by his sisters Alexandra and Amanda, his son Alan-Michael and his daughter Peyton, his adopted son Philip, his nephew Nick and his niece Vicky, five grandchilden, one great-grandchild, and (apparently) six of his former wives.

Today's earrings: amethysts

Bedtime reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

[edited to correct the Spaulding obit]