How it happens

I got home from work tonight to a nearly empty living room and dining room. The living room has been put together with the tv finally arriving at a permanent home. The couch and the chair sit comfortably with the bed and lamps. The walls look wonderful in the dim electric light, the pink is nearly orange salmon.

I say hello to Angela, who is at the computer doing research having worked part of the day doing books and the other part cleaning and arranging our home.

I lay down for a 15 minute nap.

We run to the drug store, like literally we run. We buy tooth brushes and an empty spray bottle. We see founding member of Saigon Kick and later star of sex rehab Phil Varone. We run home. I run a couple more miles by myself.

I come home and I shower.

Angela has prepared pasta and green beans. It's yums. I eat.

We drive to a red box and return "the Rum Diary".

Angie leaves to watch Ru Paul's Drag Race with Devin and Dylan at their place.

I'm now drinking red wine and writing the guitar part for a new Turbo Sunshine song. It's going well. The windows are open and traffic whizzes past. I hear sirens on occasion and voices without people.