And pray I will
This weekend I:
Although I was tired as hell by the end of Saturday, it was nice to see the house starting to come together. The dining table I got is awesome, and has a leaf so it can seat about eight. Paul, Sylvie, the roommate and I had a late dinner there, and it was great finally having a space we can all sit and eat and chat. David helped me put my bedroom furniture together, and the queen is screaming out for me to sleep on...unfortunately, the subletter gets the honor of breaking it in.
Quinn volunteered on Saturday morning to go to Ikea with us, probably not realizing what he was getting into. Or that after we stuffed the car with boxes, he'd have to ride all the way home with a girl he'd just met sitting on his lap. They're good friends now! As I usually do when Quinn meets a new friend of mine, I out him as a Republican first thing, lest that friend thinks Quinn and I are in any kind of agreement in policy discussions that inevitably arise. And this is what makes him an awesome ex-boyfriend, a straight-shooter as those righties like to say — because everytime I do this he laughs and says, "Tell the cab story."
The cab story: Back when we were dating we were on our way home from dinner and, as usual, were arguing quite loudly about some new administration policy. (Usually this was done in bars, while we earned glares from other patrons as we'd yell at each other over Iraq policy...hmm...I'm trying to remember why we broke up...) His apartment was a few blocks closer, so he got out of the cab first. As soon as the door closed the cabbie turned to me and said, horrified, "What is wrong with him! He's crazy! Seriously, you should pray for him."