| Not Quite What I'm After ... |
[Oct. 7th, 2003|11:14 am]
Young Geoffrey
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Haven't been working on the novel. Exploring livejournal, among other sites, smoking cigarettes and quaffing a couple of ales.
Come 10:30 or so, I decided to check my (snail) mail before trundling off to bed.
The post was just leaving, having a brief chat with my superintendent, a remarkable woman of 84 who runs three apartment buildings - and runs them well, may I add.
Bernice is about 5 feet tall, of a matronly build and carries a shock of metallic red hair; the lord alone knows where she gets her dyes.
She's also flirtatious as hell.
I said good morning after pulling my mail from my slot. We exchanged greetings and I told her I was about ready for bed.
She planted her hands on her hips, swivled 'em a little, and said, "You've come to the right place!"
"Well," I said, "if you're offering ..."
She laughed and jerked her thumb towards her apartment. "And I've got another couple of pussies inside."
Post-scriptum: Why in the world does livejournal's spell-checker suggest that "livejournal" is mis-spelled? |
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