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Monday Ryan did something that earned him the award for Most Clueless Act Ever Performed by Someone Not Named President George Bush: He texted me asking for permission to give my number to Lucy because "she needs a workout buddy." Not "Would you like to be Lucy's workout buddy?" (Answer: I would not).
I wondered why HE couldn't be her buddy. I knew he was planning to start counseling with John, so I joked to Tery that he was going to ride off into the sunset with him and leave Lucy with me. I guess the week-long silent treatment wasn't enough of a lesson in how I feel about Lucy.
It turns out, as I learned Tuesday, that was exactly his plan. John closed on a house Friday and Ryan wasted no time arranging to move in with him. After only one therapy session and a weekend free of arguing. Possibly one of the stupider decisions of his life (not being made with the big head), but you can't tell him that.
Part of his grand scheme is to ask Lucy to rent his condo from him (Lucy of no job or income). Yep. Definitely no big head thinking going on here.
Whatever. He can live his life and make his own mistakes, but he shouldn't try to foist his friends off on me when they become inconvenient.
~*~
In FCW news, the surveillance software is first class, but as it turns out my handy peephole spycam is pretty useless at night -- you can vaguely make out people-sized shapes, but she could be carrying crates of fully automatic rifles into her place and it would be impossible to tell. So I tracked down a second camera with night vision that I can position on the balcony facing the stairwell. This is how determined I am to catch her at SOMETHING.
Today I finally got a call back from Narcotics Division, an officer with a dry sense of humor who assured me he's had her on his radar this entire time, and would love nothing more than to kick her door in and find something to put her away, except that "pesky Constitution" has his hands tied without more substantial evidence.
I was happy I didn't get a "Meth lab what? Tracey who?" He also seemed very interested in my little camera scheme. Tery thought I was a huge dork, but I'm sure he wishes more private citizens stepped up and took a more active role more often. Part of it is my hatred of drug users. A bigger part is a strong desire not to have my home blown up.
He did say, somewhat ominously and mysteriously, "I have information that might suggest she's starting up again." He didn't elaborate, and obviously this comment didn't do much to put me at ease. I wanted desperately to ask about the odds of her getting off so easy after a second offense, but I'm always hyper-self- conscious when I talk to coppers.
So now I'm back on garbage watch, which the cameras should make much easier. If I know anything, so too will you.
~*~
Okay, F-list, your squeeing has not fallen on deaf ears. Monday I went to see ( ::Star Trek:: )
Final impression: More enjoyable than some of the films made with the original cast. I'm definitely looking forward to more films being made with these young 'uns. Particularly Mr. Quinto.
I wondered why HE couldn't be her buddy. I knew he was planning to start counseling with John, so I joked to Tery that he was going to ride off into the sunset with him and leave Lucy with me. I guess the week-long silent treatment wasn't enough of a lesson in how I feel about Lucy.
It turns out, as I learned Tuesday, that was exactly his plan. John closed on a house Friday and Ryan wasted no time arranging to move in with him. After only one therapy session and a weekend free of arguing. Possibly one of the stupider decisions of his life (not being made with the big head), but you can't tell him that.
Part of his grand scheme is to ask Lucy to rent his condo from him (Lucy of no job or income). Yep. Definitely no big head thinking going on here.
Whatever. He can live his life and make his own mistakes, but he shouldn't try to foist his friends off on me when they become inconvenient.
~*~
In FCW news, the surveillance software is first class, but as it turns out my handy peephole spycam is pretty useless at night -- you can vaguely make out people-sized shapes, but she could be carrying crates of fully automatic rifles into her place and it would be impossible to tell. So I tracked down a second camera with night vision that I can position on the balcony facing the stairwell. This is how determined I am to catch her at SOMETHING.
Today I finally got a call back from Narcotics Division, an officer with a dry sense of humor who assured me he's had her on his radar this entire time, and would love nothing more than to kick her door in and find something to put her away, except that "pesky Constitution" has his hands tied without more substantial evidence.
I was happy I didn't get a "Meth lab what? Tracey who?" He also seemed very interested in my little camera scheme. Tery thought I was a huge dork, but I'm sure he wishes more private citizens stepped up and took a more active role more often. Part of it is my hatred of drug users. A bigger part is a strong desire not to have my home blown up.
He did say, somewhat ominously and mysteriously, "I have information that might suggest she's starting up again." He didn't elaborate, and obviously this comment didn't do much to put me at ease. I wanted desperately to ask about the odds of her getting off so easy after a second offense, but I'm always hyper-self- conscious when I talk to coppers.
So now I'm back on garbage watch, which the cameras should make much easier. If I know anything, so too will you.
~*~
Okay, F-list, your squeeing has not fallen on deaf ears. Monday I went to see ( ::Star Trek:: )
Final impression: More enjoyable than some of the films made with the original cast. I'm definitely looking forward to more films being made with these young 'uns. Particularly Mr. Quinto.
