YESTERDAY, IN BRIEF

The move went well. A two hour operation become seven tedious hours of grip-and-wait, with twice the number of trips. Heavy lifting, except I have no furniture to speak of aside from a kitchen table and a bed (now broken). The rooms still echo. I am a poor man. I have nothing. I can only give my heart.

They finished the renovations. Place looks fantastic. New stove, fridge, bathroom, cabinets. Cleaner than clean, and huge! Jeezus, I could install bleachers. Thanks to everyone who helped. (Vidiot and Val make that list easily, though my cousin Richard sacrificed his car (and a rare quiet Sunday with his new baby girl) to lug shit around and brave Midtown traffic all day long. He has more patience than me. He has more patience than ten of me.) New landlord, slightly older friends. I'm not worthy.

Leather-clad Valkyries shaking it to Parliament made up the welcoming party. There was more beer than we knew what to do with. We broke the bed. I lost a nut. Out cold by nine. Missed a party and a Zambonis show.

True, every last truncated fucking word of it.

Ultra-jaded outsider rants to return in 5. 4. 3.

2.