… to this:
The police officer, investigating why the occupants had not paid their utility bills for two years, visited the apartment Tuesday evening. When no one answered the door, the officer broke in and found the four bodies dressed in nightwear, The Moscow Times reported Thursday.
Aside from the condition of the bodies, evidence indicating that the deaths took place years ago included food in the refrigerator from 2003, a 1997 calendar and ruble notes that are now out of circulation, a spokesman for the City Prosecutor’s Office said.
A source close to the investigation described the dead as a grandfather born in 1912 … his wife, who was born in 1914 … a daughter born in 1942 and a granddaughter born in 1971, the Interfax news agency reported.
Neighbors said Wednesday that the family kept to themselves. One woman said she had last seen the daughter and granddaughter two to three years ago, while she had not seen the grandmother for 15 years.
Did they all die at once? Or was it a “Rose for Emily” thing where everybody was just keeping the corpses around for … ow, ick, nasty images there …
Since the launch of Blogtimore, Hon!, has anyone noticed an increase in spammers? I’ve actually gotten off light in the comment category, but I’ve been getting between ten and twenty trackback spam a day.
F. and R. finally found a buyer for their gas station.
I guess they bought it when they thought it would make them money. The harsh reality of being a gas station franchisee smacked them hard in the face, “It’s slave labor,” R. told me tonight. “The companies make all the money.” Those franchise fees are killer.
R.’s wife, F., had started working at the station full time when they bought it. They’d had a British guy, Jamal, who worked a ton of hours (mostly the overnight), and R. picked up the slack, working a full time job during the day. Then Jamal went back to the Mother Country, and R. had to quit his job to work at the station. His full-time job (he was a machinist) paid him six times what he and his wife make from the gas station.
R. would work a 12-hour shift, and F. would relieve him. Then F. would work a 12-hour shift, and R. would come back to relieve her. Finally, they stopped keeping the station open 24-hours. Before they made that decision, I’d inquired about an overnight position – seemed like an easy way to pick up a few extra bucks over the summer. I was turned down — with R. leaving his job, they’d already had to let go their entire staff (which, it should be noted, had consisted of one middle-aged fellow whose paychecks were often bigger than both F.’s and R.’s … combined).
So there’ll be a new owner the middle of next week. He’s a Pakistani fellow. And he’s looking for employees. R. mentioned this to me, I’m not sure if he remembered my inquiry about the night position a few years ago, but it struck me as … serendipity? I mean, here I am, thinking about getting a night job — and here’s one presenting itself to me out of the blue.
I don’t even go into the actual store at the gas station anymore. R. just happened to show up at the franchise pizza shop tonight, and we started talking. This was the first time in probably six months we’ve spoken. All I can think is, “This happened for a reason.” Because, y’know, I need to pay off my debt, and this would help with the income flow.
I have an application filled out. R. said he’d give me a good recomendation. I’m going to turn it in tomorrow. Eep! I think I’m going to become a fan of napping.
