It's Saturday evening. Listening to Cage the Elephant and the blender.
It's Saturday evening and Spence and I will have dinner; Mexican, with frozen Margaritas.
We've agreed that living together was a terrible idea.
He's found a place of his own and we've spent several hours sorting things out, amiably and with a great deal of humor.
I get to keep the fridge with the door dispensers. I'll regain the floor hidden under recording equipment and amplifiers.
There were some real rough spots last week, and before. After all was said and done, it was decided that we still had things to learn together, as artists, musicians and old souls.
Apply a bit of W. Edward Deming and we can agree that it's the system that's broken, not the people.
It's Saturday evening. I can live with that.
In my own place.
Kitties all fine. Pictures soon.