Sharing a lack of mystery, also, I hope I don't die.

The lack of mystery is startling. I hosted a party and basically blacked out for the latter portion of the evening, and yet there is a lack of mystery.

I've blacked out and found more cash than I started with, blacked out and woken up naked in a Costa Rican hotel room, a little wet and bruised, woken up with some person whose name I had to find out, but this has never happened. First of all, I somehow knew this guy's name, like I had been repeating it over and over. Also, I knew how the cheap furniture had been broken (I fell on it). I asked around and I had recollected the whole night. Perhaps it wasn't the best party ever.

Also, I hope I don't die. I drank some meed which (as all meed these days is) had been homemade. Hopefully, as all things alcoholic tend to do, the death in it had been killed, although it doesn't taste alcoholic to me, which make me wonder if it isn't a cesspool of germs and bacteria that are waiting for some unsuspecting host to deliver their spawn unto the world. I could be patient zero for the apocalypse. I had hoped very much that I would be one of the last survivors, eeking out a meager existence on found fall-out shelters, vending machines and dog flesh. If I act like a zombie by next week, please remove my head from my body. It isn't going to turn out well if you don't.

Sharing a building: Part 2

Shirtless, in short shorts and my Reebok pump-up sneakers, I strode around the building quickly to unload some garbage. Either fortunately or unfortunately, I ran into some older or otherwise out-of-shape neighbors moving a large buffet up one story. They had a very daft plan to lift the heavy wooden piece straight up, nearly six feet, to the front landing. I agreed share my ability to move large furniture, for otherwise there might have been injury, certain death, and a loud noise. Once moved, the furniture's owner showed me her new and old apartments, and I learned about what the kids like to do in BFE Ohio. I like being friendly with the neighbors, but I will continue to ask, "how much is too much?"