In Search of Vintage

Now I have started combing the City Paper's ads for antiquated apartments in Baltimore city--something to the tune of high ceilings, hardwood floors, arched entry ways, etc. Believe it or not, these beauties open up every day for about a hundred dollars less than what I pay now.

My shroud is hanging nicely from my stucco ceiling courtesy of Gordon. He came over on Monday night with some handy hole-punching tool (not a drill), and did the job quite nicely. He said to me "all of my masculinity is wrapped up in this tool... did I ever tell you about that, Kate? How every man should have a tool that he carries with him at all times?"

We did have to borrow a hammer from my neighbor though, to add force. It was charming. At one point he said to me, "So stucco is like stone..."

In atypical male fashion, he didn't just punch the hole and leave. We talked for a couple of hours about our lives--I asked him what he thought working for his dad this year has "been about," I shared more anecdotes from my childhood, made us coffee, and showed him my pictures of Walden Pond (he asked about the size of Thoreau's hovel, and since I have no mind for spatial things, I had to bring out photos).

Last night I ate barbecue and bacon beans on toast for supper, and was up late enough to watch some cartoon showcase called "Adult Swim," which features animated adult content... Not pornography, but "kicked up a notch." And of course adult content always refers to sexual content. Is this the best tv has to offer after a certain hour?

I went to bed at about midnight, safely tucked inside my muslin curtain, enjoying what small breeze there was coming in through the open window.