when i got home i realized the the phone was still off the hook. i picked up the receiver, half expecting my mother to still be blabbing away on the other line. when she wasn't, i hung it back up.

i checked my messages and there was one from mother and one hangup. i wondered if it was from him and thought about calling to see, but i immediately dismissed the idea. if it was him, he'd write.

i opened my email. four spams and a letter from Glen. nothing from dobbs.

Glen and i had been on the outs for about a week. we were hanging at T---'s and we had an argument about something stupid. as usual, he'd gotten drunk. he's a terrible drunk. he made some insulting remark and i left in a huff.

in part, his letter said

> I'm an ass. I shouldn't drink red wine.
> Sorry for taking you for granted and saying
> what I said. Wanna catch a flick tomorrow?
> Hairdresser's Husband is playing at the Bloor.

i wrote him back saying that i'd let him know tomorrow. i thought i'd better see how i felt the next day.

i took Fletch for a quick walk. he shit in the bushes and it was dark so i just left it there.

back at the house i let him crawl into bed with me--something i generally didn't allow because his illness makes him shed. tonight, however, i needed something warm next to me. i put on the first side of Sonny Rollins' Saxophone Colossus [mp3] and drifted off to sleep.

next

blogathon@victoryshag.com