One more day. That's it. Just a solitary day. Tonight, I will be sleeping in my bed, here in the apartment on Crooks Road, for the last time. The load of laundry that I have cycling right now will be the last one for which I will have to turn the digs and the car outside upside down for one more, elusive, quarter. Tomorrow, I will have my own washer and dryer and so quarters will lose their special, savior-like, qualities. Their nimbi shall fade.This is, ostensibly, the last day in which I will have to get up, bleary-eyed, and search for Louie's leash, so that I can take him Outside and watch as he sniffs around a few select places, lunges at treed squirrels, thinks about eating another dog's excrement, squirts out perfunctory urine and looks up at me, as if to say, "I'm good, Dad. Why're you standing around with your thumb in your ass?" Tomorrow, I'll be able to just open the back door and let Louie tear around the yard until he tires and gloomily drops a load.
This is the last day in which I will hear people walking up and down the stairs in the morning and at night. This is the last day in which I will hear people slamming distant doors. Tomorrow, if I do hear these things? I guess that'll mean that I am host to an interloper--or a ghost--and so I will sic my fearsome Lou-Dog upon the unfortunate trespasser/spectre.
This is the last day that I will have to closely monitor my radio volume. Tomorrow I will be able to blast the summabitch, if I so desire. This is the last day that I will have to monitor my sounds of love. Tomorrow, I'll be able to fuck like a howling hyena, if I so desire. I desire.
This is the last day I'll have to worry about people being able to see, through those stupid ground-floor Venetian blinds, me walking around half-clothed. Tomorrow, I'll be able to practice nude backflips in the front room, if I so desire. I desire, I desire.
This is the last full day and night in the apartment in which I have lived for the last two-and-a-half years. Tomorrow, coinciding brilliantly with the green first parries of Springtime, begins a new era.
Okay. Now? I'm gettin' excited.
10 comments:
Quarters never lose their special qualities. Or their nimbi.
I can't even imagine how nice it would be to just let the dogs out, but one of these days I intend to find out.
Very exciting, your move! You'll be asking us to dinner soon, right? Right?
(Make sure you have a spotter for those nude back flips)
I have a spotter. I do. =) You're right about the quarters. They are the gold standard o' ci-zoins. You sure that you trust me with dinner? ;-)
Yay for moving into the new digs!! I am excited for you and Louie. As for the nude backflipping and f*king like a hyena...good for you ;0p Oh, and be careful with that...you don't want to have to go to the ER because of naked acrobatics, and I would be concerned for Melissa...considering your proclivity for similar sibling injuries ;op
I'm so excited for you and Louie!
Lil Miss: What does "f*king" mean? I'm fucking lost, here. ;-) And, yeah, nude ER visits? No fun. Trust me. ;-)
Nighthawk: Thanks! Me too. Just finalizing this packing stuff. In fact, when I'm done typing this message, you and Lil Miss will be the last people with whom I correspond from these digs.
Don't you guys feel honoured? =)
Adam, at the time I just didn't feel like typing "fucking" ;0p I am surly honored to be one of the last people to have corresponded with you in your apartment ;0)
Very very honored indeed.
BTW, what is the significance of the red marker, red rocket? Shwing? ;)
So, are you there yet? Isn't your computer hooked up? What the fuck is going on? Answer me!
Sounds like on hell of a last day to say the least, NINjoy your new horizon bud.
Yes, indeedy, Nighthawk. Shwing! Excitement. Juvenile, yes. Apropos? Yes. =)
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