Monday, August 01, 2005
Where the hell have I been?
After a long weekend in Connecticut and New York a couple of weeks ago, missing Gregg’s birthday party, then having my parents over for the weekend and nearly dying of heat stroke on an hour long hay ride, I’m happy to report that things are back to normal: This Friday I decided to go out on the town alone. So the saga begins.
Let’s just say that going out alone on a Friday night is something that – well – no good can come of. And I had an unexpected houseguest that night (I shaln't be so bold as to expect such a houseguest).
Saturday, I had been given some furnature from my old boss and I went to collect it --it was a lot larger than I’d thought. . . in fact, too large for one person to manage. So the old boss, like the good guy he is, offers to help me move it in his truck. Cool.
We get to my house with the load of furniture and he asks if I need a desk for my bedroom. Sure. . . I could definitely use one. The old boss then swings open the door to my bedroom and – eeeeeer, nooooooo!!!! – the reminants, tools, and other paraphanilia of a responsible night of fun were all in plain sight and all over the bed (which was nearly in the center of the room), floor and a chair.
He immediately slams to door. . . . lends me a smirk and says:
"Yep, that room could use a desk."
After a long weekend in Connecticut and New York a couple of weeks ago, missing Gregg’s birthday party, then having my parents over for the weekend and nearly dying of heat stroke on an hour long hay ride, I’m happy to report that things are back to normal: This Friday I decided to go out on the town alone. So the saga begins.
Let’s just say that going out alone on a Friday night is something that – well – no good can come of. And I had an unexpected houseguest that night (I shaln't be so bold as to expect such a houseguest).
Saturday, I had been given some furnature from my old boss and I went to collect it --it was a lot larger than I’d thought. . . in fact, too large for one person to manage. So the old boss, like the good guy he is, offers to help me move it in his truck. Cool.
We get to my house with the load of furniture and he asks if I need a desk for my bedroom. Sure. . . I could definitely use one. The old boss then swings open the door to my bedroom and – eeeeeer, nooooooo!!!! – the reminants, tools, and other paraphanilia of a responsible night of fun were all in plain sight and all over the bed (which was nearly in the center of the room), floor and a chair.
He immediately slams to door. . . . lends me a smirk and says:
"Yep, that room could use a desk."
# posted by otas : 2:21 PM
