DAY 16, 281
The wolves are howling as they draw near. Betty and the baby are swaddled by the fire, the last of the cook books and furniture keeping them warm for the nonce. I ponder our future as the last of the Redenbachers pop in the microwave. Bingeing the final season of Match Game with Gene Rayburn and contemplating calling Innabuggy ….
After a 3 month-long self-imposed exile in Ottawa, my esteemed roommate is heading back here tomorrow to change his socks and justify paying half the rent. …and as happy as I will be to have someone to talk to besides my reflection in the ever-increasing collection of empty bourbon, wine, and vodka bottles, his return poses a problem. In his absence, I’m afraid I became derelict in the responsibility to keep the compound habitable for human beings. Before he arrives, I must turn this Frat House Dorm back into livable space, instead of the aftermath of a 3 month Toga Party. Still trying to figure out how I got spaghetti sauce and hot dog remnants on the ceiling of the bathroom and under the bed ….
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 