Just Shoot Me Now

Okay, you may as well knock me over and stomp on my head — again.  Now that I know that there is no end to it, I am resigned to being the little bird who pokes his head out of the pile of cow manure just dumped on him and begins to sing, only to attract the attention of a hawk…  You know the story.

On second thought, I reckon the hawk would have finished him off, and I’m not yet ready for that (Though I am getting closer!). I think maybe I’m a bit more like the mouse that my cat caught when he (the cat) was just a lad.  It was his first mouse.  Once he caught it, he didn’t know what to do with it.  He just sat with it in his mouth, wide-eyed and perplexed.  The mouse, meanwhile, was squirming and squealing.  Finally the cat took the mouse over to his litter box and buried him.  Mousie, seemingly unhurt but very unhappy, fled immediately, only to be recaptured and reburied.  Six times.  Each time he was caught and buried the mouse was a little less vigorous in his escape.  It wasn’t clear whether he was becoming more frail, or injured, or just fed up with being buried in shit.    He eventually gave up and let the cat eat him.

So why do I liken myself to poor little Mousie? I hear you ask.  Well, it’s like this…you already know about the long litany of real estate hassles this past year–at least some of it — climaxing, as it were, with the fire-bombing and total destruction of the shop and residence one week before I was due to take possession of it.

You may also recall that following a much-anticipated hip replacement in November, I managed to fall and break the femur which was supporting the new hip prosthesis two  weeks later.  That, of course, led to more surgery and five weeks in hospital.

What you don’t know is that throughout much of the aforementioned drama I was also struggling with a deteriorating personal relationship.  That eventually came to a head a couple weeks ago–not long after I had indicated that I considered it over–when I received notice of litigation in the Tasmanian Supreme Court, suing me for (among other things) so-called Third Party Rights.  Give me a break –there were/are no such rights.  It’s a nuisance litigation, but does sum up rather nicely why I needed to be out of the relationship.

Now, lest you think I am making mountains out of the proverbial mole hills, let me add the notice I received this morning from yet another solicitor.  This one is acting on behalf of a real estate agent who showed my Fossil Cove house to the couple who eventually bought it.  The agent is now claiming $20,025 commission, despite the fact that when he and his partner/wife showed the house they (she) so-insulted the couple that they refused to buy the house as long as the agent was the one acting for me.  They only came back to it when they saw the house re-advertised by a different agent.

What have I done to upset the Forces of Evil so badly, I’m asking myself.  I long since gave up saying “what next?” because the answer is inevitably waiting for me.

So now you know why I feel like a mouse in a litter box.             MM