First, my art teacher tells me that she won't be moving back to Australia for at least another year so I don't have to make the awful decision about how to keep learning what she's teaching me without moving to Florence. (Thought about moving to Florence).
I'm willing to let that one slide. No need to start getting all warm and buttery over that. Life is still dangerous and precarious and the vague feeling of impending doom remains settled over my head. All is
Then the agency lady, who everyone said was pazzo, gives me a freezer, and it works.
I become suspicious.
Then the Fixing Things for a Measly Fifty Bucks guy doesn't charge me 300 Euros to fix my electrical sockets.
Now, I'm starting to worry.
Then, something really weird happens. The landlord just texted me with the phone number of the guy to call to fix the hot water heater. And told me to call him to make an appointment and he would pay for it and everything.
What, have I got cancer or something? Are my teeth all about to fall out? What?!
What is going on??!!!
Update: The landlord told me today that if the hot water heater was just worn out, he would pay for it to be fixed, but if it has been broken by the tenant, (me), I would have to pay...
I think I sense the universal order of things reasserting itself.