Helaine woke me with a kiss this morning. She opened the bedroom door as she left because I was about to be alone in the house. She and Stef got in the car and headed north. It’s concert time in Verona, NY near Syracuse. The Rick Springfield Stalker Tour lives!
OK–they’re not stalkers. It’s just fun to say.
I was once a bachelor. I can take care of myself for four days, right?
I had a 1:45 PM appointment in Branford to get my hair cut with Francine at Allusions. At 1:45 PM I was on the “Q” Bridge and on phone. “I’ll be a few minutes late,” I said. That didn’t take long.
I’m not sure how or why but even a day alone leaves the house noticeably messier. Is Helaine walking behind me undoing my mess when she’s home? It’s possible.
I was a horrendous bachelor. I’d grocery shop, gorge myself for a few days, then starve while waiting to go again. Helaine still talks about the ketchup bottle “ketchupped” to my ugly yellow Parsons table. Clean clothes would lay on the floor and never quite make it into the dresser or closet. At one point I had an apartment with mushrooms growing from the bathroom vanity.
I’m not proud of myself as a bachelor, but it’s been nearly 30 years. We’ve passed the statute of limitations. We have, haven’t we?
Though they’re gone there’s no doubt Helaine and Stef care and worry. As I was about to fly out the door I saw the two plates of butter cookies with fruit jam centers.
I can be bought off with food.