...gets the broken vacuum! We own, and live in half of, a duplex. Jenny, my writing friend and our renter, got a promotion and moved to NYC last week. I told her I didn't mind carrying all her remaining trash and recycling out to the curb this week, and I added a few of my own goodies to the mix. This morning I decided to empty the garage of trash & recycling and sweep it out in lieu of working out. (Hey, sweat's sweat.) Our vacuum broke the other day so that went out there, along with an ancient and cheap patio umbrella, a 10-gallon aquarium, and the glass turntable from a long-gone microwave. It's been about an hour since I came in--and already some enterprising junkpicker has scooped up those items. St. Vinnies is coming for the furniture and bags o'clothes sometime today, then we'll be able to have the carpet cleaned, paint the walls that need it, and get the joint rented. Good times.
September 13--Cayo Sombrero, Venezuela. "It's not right," Sheila said as she slid the carbon fiber pole through the loops of the tent. Julian frowned. "What's not right?" he said looking around their campsite. "This whole palm trees and sandy beach camping thing," she said. "You go camping in the northwoods, you know, pine trees and campfires on chilly nights." She flung out her arm and swept it around in a circle. "This isn't camping." "Well," he said as he strung a line between two palm tree trunks so they could hang up their towels to dry, "sleeping in a tent and cooking over a fire counts as camping whether it's hot or cold at night and no matter what kind of trees there are, pine or palm." She stood with her fists on her generous hips and frowned when he came up to nuzzle her neck. "Someone might see," she said even as she leaned into his touch. "Let them look and be jealous, you're mine." His hands slid up under her shirt to cup her full breasts. She groaned and turned in his embrace, her hands pulling his lips down to hers.
Oh. Well, enjoy your day.