The man to blame?

Last night, I'm coming up in the elevator with all my groceries. And my broker and a new client are riding up with me. The broker is this really sleazy Jewish guy. I disliked him from minute one, but since I was on my own while looking for this place I didn't have much choice.
The boy he was showing around the building, was pretty cute, and he started asking me about the building/neighborhood. I was torn. Do I tell the truth, and scare him away? Or lie, so that I have a cute boy living across the hall? I saw a mental image of me walking across the hall in some cute little nightie - the other ladies on the floor do it!!! - assuming I owned such a thing - to borrow sugar, or paper towels for dog poop as the case may be.

(because this is what I look like before bed)

I decided to tell a version of the truth, all the while glaring at my broker, that the kids on the floor make a good amount of noise, but that they were thinking of putting up cameras. That I liked the places across the street, and the park, but that the neighborhood was changing VERY slowly. The truth is, this shmo broker is going to get someone to pay to live there, and I can't possibly warn them all, right?

It's like Caliope knew the hell she put me through yesterday. I come home, with yogurt and Amodium and really anything I could think of in my last ditch efforts to not have to give her up. And she's running around like a puppy, a really bony puppy who hasn't eaten in weeks, but a puppy nonetheless.

She ate a ton, for her yesterday, and while she vomitted once - I knew that 2nd dinner was pushing it - and pooped a few times during the night, she ate again this morning. So, I'm torn. I'm picking up the dewormer today. Then, I figure I'll take a vote on Sunday during my, "Congratulations, Your Life Sucks" party. My friends are smarter then me.