Secret Agent Fred and I walking down Market Street in the Castro, talking the talk: “Nice people call it anal rape….” What do people overhearing us think? One wonders.
Fred and I have re-entered the world of The Rock n Roll Lifestyle, which is pretty fabulous, but difficult to accomplish anything in. I stayed more or less in bed for 20 hours a day for several days over the last weekend, fending off all sorts of attempts to lure me out. When I finally turned to on Tuesday, I had an astonishing stack of emails and stuff to deal with. I had seen something from my tax guy that was something about filing an extension. When I got around to opening the attachment, it turned out I needed to cough up $3,000 to the state by April 15, which was that day. Luckily I was able to stop squealing long enough to notice I could do it online, and I did.
Fred and I did manage a very productive day last week. We went out decorating shopping, looking at tile for the bathrooms in New Orleans and then couches. Tiles were a big success, couches less so. When did Room and Board turn into an expensive version of Ikea? The only couch they had that I liked was the one we already have here, and I’m very conscious of the fact I seem to be replicating my house here at the one in New Orleans already, so no.
We also hit a sort of antique mall and found a lovely little orange lamp and then a weird gallery where I found a lithograph we’re both wild about.
When I got them home, I realized they’re perfect in the living room here, goddamit. This happens a lot, I try to pay attention to the New Orleans house and suddenly I’m redecorating San Francisco. So very not productive, but now I have lovely addition to my living room.