The Grunter refused to eat until his blood pressure got dangerously low. Landlady called the agency and within an hour, police and ambulance arrived, took him off to the hospital. Apparently he was eventually sent to a nursing home. That’s good because he needed daily supervised physical and speech therapy if his condition was ever to improve.

His successor was BFF, as in Big Fat Faggot. Dreadful man, hideously obese and so affected. It was nauseating to hear him speak. Liberace as a whale. From the start, he complained. I heard him talking to the agency the morning after he arrived, saying he didn’t want to stay here because “the patient in the next room talked incessantly all night”. Yes, the Old Lady was in non-stop chatter mode. Fortunately my earplugs block her except for the few times she gets especially loud.

Next day he again called the agency and complained because he has to make his bed, thinks Landlady should do it. How lazy can you get! And he said that he goes out to smoke at six in the morning and the boys lock him out. I corrected him then, it’s the husband who locks the door when he goes to work. The boys don’t get up that early.

Well, he complained so much but eventually decided he wanted to stay here. Of course he had set the machinery in motion so the agency found him a place where he’ll be the only patient and he leaves tomorrow.

Good riddance.

No update in the Case of the False Prophet. I’m sure he would be judged mentally unfit to stand trial, so it probably won’t get that far. I still can’t imagine him capable of beating a man to death.

All the candidates I would have voted for in the election lost by a big margin, so just as well I didn’t waste my time.