The benefits of living alone are many. Besides being able to practice your secret single rituals with reckless abandon (i.e. witchcraft, infant sacrifices, etc.) the thermostat is always the way you like it, a clothing optional policy is acceptable, and you get to know yourself so well, you begin to finish your own sentences.
Life for the most part, is good.
But then a day like yesterday came along. It just seemed like a fine day for some watermelon. (About a week ago I started yet another health kick—one where beer and the occasional cigarette is always going to be ok—so consequently I’ve been fruits and veggied-out. After dinner and a movie with pals, I tagged along with my car owner friend Janel to the Jewels.
I grabbed some bananas, and then to the big box where those lovely green orbs sit. I picked one up (mother effin heavy, my God!) and the incredulous Janel was all like, you are sure going to have A LOT OF watermelon to which I immediately dismissed her and said, oh I’ll just cut it up and put it in containers. It’ll keep.
Good Christ, was she right.
That watermelon has been in my life for less than 24 hours and if I never see another piece again it will be too soon. Would half a watermelon make a suitable Welcome-to-the Building gift?