Slippers

I wrote a letter on an envelope.

Now . . . why would a fella write a letter on an envelope? Well, because the smallest amount of envelopes I could buy at the nearest ABC store was a box of 50. I'm here for 5 more weeks. If I write 10 letters a week, well, I'll have to scramble to find one more envelope at the end 'cause I so brazenly used this one.

I did it. Yesterday, I finished the 5th floor. I hung the last few vanities, put bulbs in and then hung 57 bath trims. 9 am to 10:30 pm.

Today I'm getting a later start, but I drove the 'Vette so I can work late. I'm back to demo/rough the 4th. My feet hurt from standing on the edges of bathtubs and my wrists hurt from the twist. My surfboard suffers lonely neglect.

Drag races Friday night! My last chance to get some t-shirts.

More coffee, boy on an ape hanger handlebarred beach cruiser just strolled, in a slowly rolling troll down Front Street. The surfboard he carried bit at the gentle tip of his breeze, nosing instinctively out to sea. There is a proper speed to ride to maximize coolness, It's slow, effortless pedal strokes. You don't want your slippers (flip flops) coming off. But too slow and you weave like a tike on a trike. I always go super uncool, way-to-fast, road-bike-speed.

But I'm old, I got grey hair flowin', salt and pepper eyebrows accent the graying side burns. Let's not talk ear hair, shall we? No one can see my tattoos 'cause of the caucasian colored ink. I got strong lookin' legs but no one looks at that. All these people have been ocean swimming their whole lives. Not me!! Look at my arms!