Sunday, March 13, 2005
I had a lovely fantasy on BART last evening, on the way home from The Makeout Room, where I went with a friend and her husband. Okay, the alcohol may have fueled this particular fantasy, which is part memory and part wishful thinking.
I'm on a trip somewhere, staying in a motel. I've let you know where I will be, because, well, I always do, don't I? But I don't have a way to really talk to you while I'm there, so we haven't spoken in days.
I'm doing the usual - taking things out of the suitcase, chilling a drink, parading around in just a towel, when I hear someone knocking on the door.
I go to answer, not thinking about the fact that I don't know anyone in this town, and that I'm not exactly dressed for company.
I'm on a trip somewhere, staying in a motel. I've let you know where I will be, because, well, I always do, don't I? But I don't have a way to really talk to you while I'm there, so we haven't spoken in days.
I'm doing the usual - taking things out of the suitcase, chilling a drink, parading around in just a towel, when I hear someone knocking on the door.
I go to answer, not thinking about the fact that I don't know anyone in this town, and that I'm not exactly dressed for company.
