Saturday, July 17, 2010

The Mover - Part 2f

I decided to skip returning to the apartment and headed instead to the bus stop by the discount clothes store at the end of the shopping center.  The 27A to Tysons Corner bus should be by in about ten minutes. I liked riding the bus.  It got me where I was going. I was never bothered. Best of all I didn't have to mess with the traffic on Route 7 which was becoming lighter over the past couple years. Noticeably lighter.  Not surprising since the Great Recession was turning out to be like a cold I picked up in Poland four or five years ago.  It really sucked to be me for a couple weeks and then it eased off and I began to rejoice. That was a mistake because it came back with a vengeance. Every time I sneezed I caught part of my lung in my hand for at least three weeks after that.

The bus dropped me off at the stop by the fast food fish place.  It was a franchise of some sort but I never saw any others like it anywhere.  One of these days I was going to google it just to satisfy my curiosity. No way it was a one of a kind family business. It was just too cheesy an corporate looking inside an out.  Yeah, I had tried it. The fried clams, once you got past the batter, well, I blew boogers out of my nose that were bigger.

From there I walked a mile down a bike and jogging path that connected up to the bike paths that ran all the way to DC.  That put me at my other place.  I rented the basement from an old stoner couple on a cash basis. They loved that.  I loved the fact that they were stoners.  Everything was cool with them including the fact that I was rarely there.

I bought a Jimi Hendrix poster and taped it on the wall for decoration and because I knew they would do a walk through when I was out. Along with the poster I left a couple books out on Socialism and environmental activism. The next time I ran into them they were a lot more friendly.  We got high and I talked some shit. Now when I was in and they knew it I would find an envelope slid under my door with a couple joints in it. Good shit too.

 I decided to to hang out for the next couple days here.  Maybe go upstairs later when I smelled dinner being cooked. The old stoner lady could cook.  Have a few beers with them and listen to whatever they were playing which was usually something recorded before I was born and relax.  Life was good.

1 comment:

  1. It is always a plus when the neighbors/landlords can cook, oh yeah, and share.