Drip, drop, the day’s showers done. Hot water with no-one to scrub my back, a sun to dry me of water. Who needs towels anyways? Nasty things made of coloured fluff. Leastwise I have somewhere to put them, hide them away. Mum and I moved a wonderful wooden chest of drawers from Silva’s last night and now I have clothes to put away. Silk and cotton have all but taken over the room. There have been some surprises in what would be considered a prosaic way to toodle through an afternoon. It seems that somewhere in the past few months I have collected more items of other people’s clothing than otherwise suspected. I’m used to knowing when chaps leave their things behind, so this is slightly strange. I’ve just discovered a gray waffle shirt, short sleeved with a V-cut neckline. I have never in my life seen it before. Could the owner of this unexpected item of clothing please step forward? I’m going take a big step and assume that it’s not the mystery lad who left behind the black long-sleeve, as that was size XXL and this one could conceivably fit me. As per usual, if I don’t discover the owner sometimes in the next two weeks, I’m keeping it. Finders keepers, it’s my bloody closet, what are you doing leaving clothes behind in the first place?
Sluts.
At any rate, I’ve caught up with my friends list to find out that other people have begun their Halloween planning. I can only suppose that September 7th is The International Day of Remembering That Halloween Is Coming. Indeterminable waiting comes next. My only planned event is at seven. Dinner at O’Doul’s tonight for Sophie’s unofficial birthday party. I’ve been told to “be swank” but I’m not very certain what that implies. I’ll likely end up going dressed as if for a job interview. Secretary office gray informal. It’s lush decor and rich food. Expensive and worth it. Above the diners is an intricate map of the world in muted colour, the style of ‘here by dragons’. Gorgeous, though my eyes don’t let me see the details. Sadly, no longer is it the place for Tiramisu. They used to create the most endearing confection possible. A plate would be brought with a chocolate tulip filled of heaven upon it. We would sit in leather seats in the lounge area, nibbling on the divine. It was a push of life, paying for a melting high.
I’m hoping Laurie is playing. I remember Tuesdays being her night to waft chic jazz through the room. It’s a long shot, rumour says after she got married she went touring the world. Ah sigh Laurie, we all were sad when you married. We wanted you ourselves. You and him. Bon Voyage you amazing woman, if you’re not there tonight, I’ll know you’re gone.