My mother gave me a new coffee pot and it beeps when the coffee is ready and now every morning I panic, thinking something's about to blow up. "What IS that?" I scream inwardly.
Won't you join me in my brain? It's relaxing.
In other less explosive news, Marvin came over yesterday to get the mortgage check, and it occurs to me as I write this that we have an incredibly inefficient manner of paying the mortgage. For some reason I write a check to him and then he sends the payment in with his OWN check, and I cannot even remember why it's this way and anyway we've now done this five months in a row and I like how it is just now occurring to me that this is stupid.
Won't you join me in my brain? It's organized.
The point is, when he came over he had one of those kind of paper bands around his wrist. "Were you in the hospital this weekend?" I queried. Who knows? Maybe the bomb in my house had gone over to his apartment or something.
"No, I was at an outdoor concert all weekend!" he said, like it was fun. You've no idea how much I do not miss being pressured to do things like stand outside all weekend with vomiting LSD-laden people listening to bands I've never heard of like My Dead Unicorn or Feel My Boil or whatever.
Marvin told me that he was standing there enjoying his blueberry hard cider–and let's talk. If Marvin is gonna be single he really has to up his game, here. It was bad enough when he drank these feminine drinks around me. Remember when we went out with that other couple to a tavern, and the other husband ordered a dark beer and Marvin got a cosmopolitan and a rice pudding?
Who's gonna hump a man who drinks blueberry hard cider? And Marvin, please do not answer that. I do not want to know.
At any rate, there he was, drinking from a teacup and saucer, with his quill pen and neckerchief, when some young kid came up to him.
"DUDE! I sure am hungry! You got any blasagna?" he pronounced it blaze-onya.
"Um," said Marvin.
"Or cherries FLAMBE? How 'bout cherries FLAMBE?"
It finally dawned on cool, street Marvin that this kid was trying to buy drugs, and I can see why you'd walk over to the middle-aged guy with rosy cheeks and a drink umbrella.
"You wanna know where to get set up with the blueberry hard cider? I'm your man. Otherwise, you are out of luck," said Marv.
Blasagna. Now I need to know what that is. Are there any drug addicts reading who can tell me?
I guess that is all I have to tell you, other than I found this photo yesterday and I continue to heart me.
Okay, going to work. Talk amongst yourselves.