Last night in the old apartment. I say good fucking riddance. There's a lot I have to do before 10 a.m., but right now I'd rather kick back with a DVD, try to dissuade Emmylou from sharpening her claws on the futon, and reflect on the fabulous night I had with Amanda in Dinkytown. What did we do? Well. Heh. Our evening consisted of meticulously editing her dad's manuscript and, more compellingly, calling the cops on a psycho, coked-out guy on a squeaky bike who circled the same block for two hours (no exaggeration!), yelling out things like "purple purple purple" and "can't get me now, chief" and running into parking meters and lampposts.
I always have a splendid time with Amanda.
Here are our feet.
I always have a splendid time with Amanda.
Here are our feet.