Hey hun,
So, are you frying to death in the city summer heat or are they keeping you frozen and docile in the office? Sorry I haven’t written in a while, the house has kept me busy for the past few weeks. As soon as I got back, I found a leak in the roof, go figure, and I had to hire a crew to poke around and fix it because, regrettably, I’m not as nimble as I used to be.
Well, they’re doing a fine job but it involves a lotta banging around. Also, I don’t think they realize how well I can hear them, on account of all the holes in the roof. The other morning, I was paying the bills at the computer when I heard one say to the other, “Yo, my back is killing me. I think I need a massage.”
And the other one says, “Oh bro, you gotta get massages regularly. I see that lady at GenSpa. I tell her, I say, just fackin’ use all your weight on my back.”
Then another guy pipes in to say, “Oh, is that Mary Lou? She’s awesome. I swear to God, one day I’m gonna open a sushi bar and name a roll after her – it’s just gonna be one big, fat piece of fish.”
Well! That was all very fascinating but I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon reading on the porch. I’d hardly tucked into my book when friggin’ Barbie and Cheryl come waltzing over to chit-chatting about I don’t know what. I made up some excuse to check in with the boys and retreated inside. Didn’t bother them, though, since they just stayed out there clucking to themselves.
Anyway, I know they were just snooping for some dirty details about the cruise Denise and I just got back from. You see, Denise has already been dropping hints all over town about a guy she met on the trip. Now, in typical Denise fashion, she’s already in la-la-love with this bozo. I’m not even sure where he lives, although I’m sure she’s told me a dozen times.
I suppose I’m happy for her, I just hope she doesn’t get her heart stomped on. But after being stuck in this town, I guess it’s deserved. I mean you already know that people like French and Mothball Man are the most eligible bachelors we have.
In fact…I hate to admit it, but I just may have found a pen pal myself on the cruise. Just a pen pal, mind! I totally forgot about giving my email address to this guy named Trevor. But don’t let the name fool you! He might have the name of an English, inbred blue-blood, but he’s definitely more pleasant and charming in real life.
Trevor’s retired, but he makes little birdhouses out of his garage in Maine. He and his buddy, who does taxidermy roadkill or whatever, sell their wares at little craft markets. Doesn’t that sound cute and wholesome? Or, have I just lost my marbles? Anyway, I hardly know the guy but it’s fun to get updates about the birdhouses and I send along little reviews of whatever I’m reading or watching on TV.
I’ll have to tell you the rest of the gory details of the trip later. The boys are up on the roof again, rattlin’ around, so I think I’ll run off to the porch – and let’s hope there aren’t any neighbors out there. There’s only room enough for one gossip in this town!
Much love,
Grams