We hear you've gone back on your parental vows to let your sons grow up. In the past week, you've done laundry for one of them, and apartment-hunted for the other. We'll let you slide on the laundry. The eldest did plan to do it himself until you grabbed the basket out of his hands and yelled, "Mine." Apartment-hunting? Seriously? This troubles us more. Back to that, eh, SJG? Did you not just score a fabulous two-bedroom for the eldest? Isn't that enough? Apparently not. Now you're obsessing over the youngest in Santa Cruz. Where will he live next fall? In the forest if you don't step in? So fine. Go ahead and Google "a nice safe place for my son to live, is that too much to ask?" Go ahead and wander through craigslist. Click, click, click till your fingertips cramp. You are wasting your time, girlfriend. Santa Cruz is too laid back to care, let alone, return your phone calls and annoying emails. Give it up, SJG. Be gone. You have no powers here. Let it go. Wait till next week, when you're up there and can harass the apartment people. You're very scary when you want to be. In the meantime, would you please chill, you little enabler, you?
You're welcome,
the SJG
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