The end of an era
Chico laid down only one rule when we agreed to be roommates – nothing that had been peed on could be moved into the new place.
The good news is that reduced the things I had to move. The bad news is my sofa is in the dumpster. She was laid to rest yesterday next to my futon and recliner.
Chico was out of town last night, so he’s in for a rude awakening when he gets home tomorrow and discovers my shit all over the place.
I felt the ticking of the clock after a few beers on Sunday, and decided that I better get some things moved.
Based on past history, I should have almost everything put away by mid-July.
But I promise you this – I am going to make a video of his bedroom. This thing is like some kind of Mexican shrine.
I mean, God forbid that something would ever happen to him, but we could have the visitation in his room. I told him that we’d prop him up in the recliner underneath the painting of The Last Supper, and people could pay their respects to his Taco Bell Chihuahua collection.
Actually, I could be the one meeting an early demise. After he walks into the place tomorrow, he might grab an 8-iron and start pulling a Chi Chi Rodriguez on my ass.
It’s better to burn out, than to fade away.