The looney, binned...

I got home last night and things were quiet, too quiet. Has she run out of steam? Was she lying in wait ready to pounce?

Thankfully neither - we received a phone call from a woman down the street informing us that Ursula had been checked into hospital that morning. Buzz and I toasted the prospect of an an incident and aggression free evening - and of sleep.

It took about half an hour of celebration and releif before I started feeling bad, well, more conflicted than bad. Yes it is sad that she is clinically not well - but she can also be consciously horrid. It is clear that she can not look after herself, but should Buzz and I have to deal with that?

The capatilist in me also smarts when I think that I pay masses of rent to live in a nice place - at the same time my taxes are subsidising her rent and enabling her to make our lives hell. How long she will be gone for? Not sure - apparently it can be months at a time. But at least when I contemplate whether or not I am malicious for wanting her gone - I will be doing so in peace.