You've got mail

Got home late yesterday. Top-Model yanked her door open and jumped into the hallway when she heard me come in, but I was on the phone. Guess I made a gasping noise or something, b/c the other person on the line asked what was wrong. Just that there was a strong smell of unpleasant body odor, I said. Would never have said that to T-M's face and didn't intend it for her, but I'm guessing she heard it b/c she didn't bang on my door once I'd ended my call.

Today I'm home, a cold grey rain is pounding yellow leaves from the tree outside my street window. The office building next door has reorganized its space, and the large conference room has been converted to shared offices. Through my side window, I now sit shoulder to shoulder with a guy in a blue shirt, no tie. (You know where I'm going with this - trying to figure out if he's wearing an undershirt.) He's balding, with a certainly much-treasured tuft of hair holding lone fortress on the top of his head. The cards seem to say I'll be spending more time in the office and on-site. Or I could move my desk.


A big yellow envelope from the court, addressed to Top-Model, is now in our mailbox.

I'm guessing it contains her notification of my motion for declaratory judgement in our ridiculous rent squabble.

Although Tennis Pro Bono represented Top-Mod in the out-of-court dealings, I asked Ungroom to have Top-Model served directly. It feels fair to give her the chance to consult a competent lawyer who has no personal interest in the case. On the one hand, it's probably scary to find official court mail; on the other, giving Tennis Pro Bono the chance to sit on it for a few days then fast-talk around it would add another layer of tar to her trap. So she's got mail.

Good thing she likes yellow.



§ 271 ZPO Zustellung der Klageschrift

Why does searching Google images for "Klagezustellung" turn up this?

Free association:
Yellow --> Sunshine --> Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam --> Any wonder?