August 23rd, 2006

Laurel & Hardy Dancing

The stuff dreams are made of

Thank you, folks, for your kind offers of helping me with my temporary bank card-less woes. orionsmom and ron_newman both came through with some cash in the clutch, and I swear to you them checks ain't gonna bounce. Thank you so much.

I started the day kinda bumming, because of the bank card bull and the fact that someone had put a nifty life-sized Maltese Falcon sculpture up for grabs in their "we're moving out!" giveaway. I was at work and so couldn't get over in time. I emailed a buncha locals trying to see if anyone was around, but didn't hear anything. And when I left for work, I noticed the bird had been crossed off the available list.


I came home and surrealestate said "Hey, check out the dining room!"

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

And there it was.
The, uh, stuff dreams are made of.
I have the best housemates in all of explored space.

Abbie does not know what to make of the Maltese Falcon.

Abbie didn't really know what to make of the bird. But that's okay. The bird is now occupying a very fine spot on our mantel. (I scratched his belly. No gold. That's quite all right.)