My brother and sister-in-law have taken a mini break to California. This leaves me to the dutiful task of housitting. Staying here is like a fun hotel retreat for me. The house is cozy and nice, the computer is fast and I have my own space. I am working on my stories, relaxing and getting some exercise. Just today, I put on my $40 jeans, an old yellow t-shirt I got for free and my REI techie jacket and paced the length of Alki beach. I wanted some fresh air and time to clear my head. I was glad that the beach was deserted except for a few couples, some older people and a mom or two.
After my walk I decided that Seattle is a strange place. Despite my unwashed appearance, two dudes whistled and waved to me from their banged up, white contractor vans and another numbskull honked and pumped his fist at me from the driver's seat of his grandma's white pontiac. Maybe they had their summertime bikini volleyball glasses on and didn't realize what they were seeing. The other blunder happened when some guy walked in front of me with a cardboard tray of fries and a swarm of seagulls around his head. I hate it when people feed seagulls, especially when it makes them come closer to me and threaten pooping on my head. Luckily, I ducked out of the flock unharmed.
Someone is coming to look at my car tomorrow. It still hasn't sold. The market for ancient cars is smaller than I anticipated, but patience is key. Some jerk keeps offering me way too little cash, on the spot, if I sell it to him. He would probably make a lousy owner anyway. He can keep his trite sum and I will wait. For a while longer anyway.
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