Stuff I need to do or remember
Sept 17, 2012 2:19:57 GMT -5
Post by Ari Jasinski on Sept 17, 2012 2:19:57 GMT -5
Now Playing: Ruth Etting, “Love Me Or Leave Me,” 1929.
Love me or leave me Or let me be lonely
You won’t believe me, I love you only....
He whistled along with the music, completely off-key but used to that, as he checked the first coat of paint-- dry! Time for the second. The new couch, delivered just the day before, was sitting against the opposite wall, covered with a drop-cloth to protect it from the slightest possibility of paint stains.
The apartment was finally starting to look more like a home, and less like a place he was just crashing in between work shifts, he thought with satisfaction.
"Home, sweet home, Freddy," he said aloud to the spider fern, sitting on the floor by the open window. "That's what we're starting to have here!"
At this rate, maybe he'd actually be able to start having people over, the way he'd talked about with Greg and Vincent-- actual social things once in a while, somewhere away from the shop. Maybe mostaccioli? Or he did a pretty damn good stir-fry, that might work.
He started making a mental list of the people he might invite as he put on the second coat of paint, then stopped in mid-gesture. He looked at the room he had to work with. He actually knew more people to invite than he had room for.
He actually knew more people who might actually want to hang out with him than he had room for.
The realization left him standing, brush poised in mid-air, grinning like an idiot, until he realized that he was just wasting time, so he got back to work with a quickness.
The wall wouldn't paint itself, after all, and he had social plans to make....
Love me or leave me Or let me be lonely
You won’t believe me, I love you only....
He whistled along with the music, completely off-key but used to that, as he checked the first coat of paint-- dry! Time for the second. The new couch, delivered just the day before, was sitting against the opposite wall, covered with a drop-cloth to protect it from the slightest possibility of paint stains.
The apartment was finally starting to look more like a home, and less like a place he was just crashing in between work shifts, he thought with satisfaction.
"Home, sweet home, Freddy," he said aloud to the spider fern, sitting on the floor by the open window. "That's what we're starting to have here!"
At this rate, maybe he'd actually be able to start having people over, the way he'd talked about with Greg and Vincent-- actual social things once in a while, somewhere away from the shop. Maybe mostaccioli? Or he did a pretty damn good stir-fry, that might work.
He started making a mental list of the people he might invite as he put on the second coat of paint, then stopped in mid-gesture. He looked at the room he had to work with. He actually knew more people to invite than he had room for.
He actually knew more people who might actually want to hang out with him than he had room for.
The realization left him standing, brush poised in mid-air, grinning like an idiot, until he realized that he was just wasting time, so he got back to work with a quickness.
The wall wouldn't paint itself, after all, and he had social plans to make....
