I’m sitting on the floor of my new apartment. The apt manager is explaining to me what happened to the bed I had just bought. Seems the maintenance crew had come into the apartment after the previous tenant had moved out, thought the bed had been left behind and and and threw it away. The complex is going to pay for it, but I don’t have a bed.
Well actually I don’t have much furniture at all. I do have all sorts of communications gear. The place is looking like some sort of NSA listening post, wires, antennas, boxes with blinking lights. I do have the bar set up, realized this is not a good sign, tumblers, wines glasses, shot glasses and champagne flutes, assortment of vodkas, various Italian mixers and other items of ill repute. Never can tell when company is coming over.
I’m pulling out an inflatable bed from the home, quess that goes nicely with my inflatable doll? Thinking to myself what have I done to get here. Got to get a couch.
Violated my own rules and sent Eduardo an electronic birthday card (in Spanish no less). To his credit, he sent a nice reply. I sense he likes the finer things in life and wants to always be improving himself. I like that about him, a desire for style & refinement. But I’m not going to be one of his fan club members chasing but never catching him.
Richard also sent me a very nice note, I’m sorry he lives in Chicago. He’s so uncomplicated, but he has had a tough life I suspect. He’s far too young to have stories, more stories lie ahead. Life always get more complex.