After lots and lots of fuss and bother, this is the new view at the front of
my building. My ever-present “usual suspect” neighbor, the one with whom I
gallivant all over the western US, is now moved in downstairs in the
quad-plex building I live in. No more slipping and sliding my way across
the parking lot in winter to be helper monkey! I’m still getting used to
the Great White Chariot being downstairs—I have my windowsill cluttered with
knickknacks, including a pair of bubbled glass tower paperweights in which I
can see the truck (and anything that moves on this side of the street). My
sweetie says he’s finally getting over the repeating urge to tell me my
ride’s here when he goes out to have a cigarette on the balcony, so I know
I’m not alone on that one.
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