So... *still doing best to procrastinate* I've hardly woken up from an intensive, collapsing, nap on the couch. I'm making random calls left & right trying to find out if anyone's gonna actually come and help me [clean/sort/pack] tonight. I get a call from mr. jonathan.
"how are you doing?" he asks.
"I'm doing!" I reply.
we barely banter back and forth, when he asks, "are you gonna come out and say hi?"
perplexed I poke my head out the window ans see nothing jonathan-esque awaiting me... "where are you?"
"I'm about 3/4 of a mile from your house."
So he came by... we sort of quasi conversed in the driveway, while he withered from work and the sweltering heat. finally, working up enough energy I got him to haul my gihugic rubbermaid� of clean clothing into the house.
He quickly discovered where the whole mole incident occurred on the back porch, and then walked into a world I never imagined he would see... *scary/evil intro, "dun dun dun!"* the disaster that is currently known as my home.
Mind you, I believe he's still my friend... despite the great fear he may have of ever entering my home again... I can only prove myself with this new place.
*suddenly reminded of a classic Vande story, "what is there to see in this Bin-gen?"
